


Nadas

by amandaterasu



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Lovers to enemies to lovers, Modern Girl in Thedas, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Rebellion, Red String of Fate, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Reverse Isekai to Isekai, Soulmate AU, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25388845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaterasu/pseuds/amandaterasu
Summary: Because of his friendship with Inquisitor Trevelyan, Solas has decided to wait to tear down the Veil until after his death. While walking in the Fade, he discovers a red string he did not notice before, and follows it to another world (our modern world) to see who lies at the other end. She is not what he expected. This fic assumes a cis-female reader insert.This fic uses theInteractiveFicsbrowser extension. Please set your substitutions to:[FN] = Your given name[LN] = Your family nameIf you would like to read a more mobile-friendly version of this fic, the mobile version can be foundhere.
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Reader, Fenris (Dragon Age)/Original Character(s), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Solas/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 92





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic in a long time outside the Final Fantasy fandom, but I've been working on this one for a while and decided I would start publishing it.
> 
> In this fic there is a lot of Elvhen (based heavily off of [FenxShiral's Project Elvhen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553883/chapters/7825850)) but as I am not a linguistic expert there are probably going to be loads of mistakes. In an effort to make things easier for my meaning to come across, you can mouse over most Elvhen words and sentences to see what they mean, or a rough translation of what I'm trying to get across. For example: 
> 
> _Nadas_  
>    
> If you see mistakes, I ask that you please be gentle and feel free to leave a comment explaining how to do it properly so I can fix it (and learn)!
> 
> Thanks so much for taking the time to read this!

It had been decades since Fen'Harel had walked the waking world of Thedas. After he and the Inquisitor had parted ways, he allowed himself to dream, to sleep, to think not of mortal planes or mortal problems. He owed his friend that much: that within his life the Inquisitor would not see the end. Trevelyan would not see the Veil come down. It would have broken his heart, or killed him outright, and for such assistance as he had provided, Solas could grant him a reprieve.

He had spent years watching a spirit of Freedom in the form of a butterfly as it settled on a memory of a bloom, trying to understand it and all it was. He had been chained so long - by the past, by what he owed his people, by his memories of Arlathan - that true freedom seemed like an ephemeral and unachievable dream. Yet a dream it was, one he could only witness here within the Fade.

A soft sigh seemed to ripple across this insubstantial reality, the tremble of it stirring the spirit, causing it to flutter away. Solas watched it go and wondered if he would ever see it again before rolling on his back to stare up at the ever-shifting skies. They looked as they had that day, when he and Trevelyan had gone into the realm of the Nightmare after Adamant Fortress. 

Uncomfortable memories they were, feeling so naked and exposed within the Fade, having a spirit see so deeply into himself. _Dying alone._ It was his greatest fear, but also his destiny. He tried to imagine any woman even being capable of walking this _Din’anshiral_ at his side, but the very idea seemed absurd, and slipped out of his mind like smoke. No woman like that could be real.

The sky grew darker, and he closed his eyes, trying to calm the sudden anxiety in his heart. The Fade reacted to thoughts, dreams, and emotions; he was no exception to that rule. Forcing himself to think of forests, dappled sunlight, a small stream - the serenity of nature - he forced his eyes shut and reached up to scratch his scalp. As he did, something unexpected brushed the tip of his nose.

Solas’s eyes snapped open and focused on the offending article - a red thread tied around his little finger, the end vanishing into mist after six or so inches of length. He sighed heavily and said, “All right, show yourself, Spirit. What name do you answer to? Mischief? Deceit?”

Sitting up, he looked around hoping to catch the prankster. He knew what the thread was supposed to be: a mark that appears only in the Fade, leading soulmates to each other. Of course, that only worked now if one or both of them were a mage. In Ancient Arlathan, the strings had appeared in the waking world, and all who were so blessed could easily find their destined companion. 

This was a prank, of course. A soulmate was more than just the pretty words of fairy tales; they were not a promise of some idyllic future where everything was beautiful and perfect. A soulmate was a calling. Another half. One to walk your road with you, one who would share your fate, one who would force you to become the best version of yourself. It was a painful path, but every person he had known who had followed their string and found theirs had said the same thing - it was so very, very worth it.

Therein, of course, was the rub. Anyone strong enough to be such to Fen'Harel would send ripples through the Fade with their every step. Her dreaming would move mountains. She would make the world tremble with her very existence; he would have sensed her the moment she was born.

He dug his fingernails into the place the thread knotted around his finger, trying to take it off, but he could not get it to budge. He let out a cry of frustration that was echoed by a loud boom, and he turned his eyes skyward to see a thunderstorm had formed overhead. The Fade was answering his emotions, as always.

“She waited so long to be real,” a familiar voice said, and Solas turned to find Cole sitting on a nearby rock, smiling in bemusement beneath his wide hat. He seemed undisturbed by the pounding rain. “You cannot unmake the waiting.”

“Cole.” Though the spirit was more human now, thanks to Inquisitor Trevelyan, he still had uncanny abilities in the Fade, and Solas’s own distraction with the cord had given him the opportunity to slip close undetected. He lifted his hand. “Do you know the meaning of this?”

He nodded. “The Wolf must walk in distant shadows, and wake her from where she dreams of waiting.”

“You’re making even less sense than usual, my friend.” Solas stood, turning to face him properly. “Still, if you believe it bears investigation…” He reached out, and called his staff to his hand, leaning on it as he looked at the thread and the direction in which it seemed to stretch, straining itself to reach some distant unseen point. “Do you know which spirit is behind this jest?”

“Jest?” Cole asked curiously, climbing down from the rock to walk beside him.

* * *

“I do not like this place,” Solas said.

He had never been this deep within the Fade before, and that was saying something. He had explored for untold centuries, and until now, never seen this place. A great, dark chasm filled with ghostly lights, like an endless void of stars, had sprung out of the nothingness, and the string continued on, untroubled, into its depths.

Cole sat on the edge, his legs dangling over the side of the cliff, looking down into the blackness. “What is in it makes the liking,” he said, and gestured grandly towards the tiny ethereal shimmers. 

“It is a beautiful vista,” Solas agreed, but something about it unnerved him. “But I am not one to walk willingly into the Void. Are you going to tell me who is toying with me?”

“Only she toys with you, and only when you earn it.” Compassion laughed into his hands then shook his head. “Is it so hard to believe?”

“That _I_ would have a soulmate?” he shook his head. “It cannot be. She would have warped the face of Thedas’s history by her mere existence.”

“She has never been to Thedas, but I think she would like it.” Cole sighed wistfully. 

Solas paused, staring out across the darkness. “You are saying she is there, waiting for me. That this is my _Lath’anshiral?”_

The spirit smiled. “What else would you call it?”

His heart froze in his chest, and he felt as he had that day when he had awoken and discovered the Veil had done more harm than good. The _Lath’anshiral_ was considered a joyous, sacred journey, when one soulmate chose to seek the other. It couldn’t be. “Do not give me false hope, Cole,” he admonished. “I have never known you to be so cruel.”

“Exactly,” he replied. “We’ve known each other for decades, and I have never been cruel.” 

Swallowing down the rest of his concerns, Solas looked back across the chasm. How many times had he dreamed of this journey when he was young? How much had it hurt, watching millenia slip by, both before his _Uthenera_ and during, when he had looked down and seen no string. His path was nearly finished, and only now would she join him? What more was there to walk?

“She did not choose when she would be,” Cole said, the sound of his voice an abrupt reminder of his presence. “She sings, and they answer.”

“Who answers?” Solas asked, but he was more focused on the Fade itself, on crafting a path across the darkness.

Cole did not reply, only looking up when nearby rocks began to form a path for the elf to cross. “Be careful of the shades. They protect her.” 

“Shades?” He asked. As if on cue, a dark shape floated across the stone path, blotting out one of the distant lights before vanishing again into the blackness.

“Shades,” Cole said with a shrug.

* * *

Despite the warning, the shades themselves were innocuous, moving about in seemingly random patterns, though a few would stop and watch Solas as he passed. He wondered idly if they knew what he was or would be to their supposed charge - the _“her”_ of Cole’s musings. 

It took him a few moments to realize he had left the Fade of Thedas and entered the Fade of her world. Solas had become accustomed to the lack of proper spirits, the silence, the darkness. He only understood what had happened when he came across a strange stone wall that smelled of tar before abruptly falling against it, succumbing to the inversion of gravity.

Solas cursed and leaned on his staff as he climbed to his feet, the bridge he had made stretching up into the darkness. He conjured a bit of Veilfire and let it dance around the head of his staff as he proceeded through the strange town. Leafless trees lined the sides of the road at regular intervals, connected by thin vines that also stretched between the trees and the homes, which stood dark and empty. 

The silence was almost painful, making every tap of his staff against the ground thunderous and his breaths seem to be shouted gasps. But still, no spirits came, and no other wanderers. All of it was empty, as if this were the barest shell of a world, and he found his questions piling up when a sound that was not himself tore him from his thoughts.

 _“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream,”_ a child’s voice sang, high and reedy. Solas glanced down at the string attached to his finger, and it stretched in that direction, so he moved that way.

 _“I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.”_ He turned a corner and saw another source of light that was not himself, a single ray of light from an unseen sun shining down on something blocked from his view by the houses.

 _“And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem,”_ the voice continued, and Solas pushed past a rough wooden fence to find the light illuminated a small garden filled with wildflowers. In the middle of it was a young girl, and she wove flowers into her hair as she sang. Most startling of all, she was human. He had never considered a human as a potential partner before, thinking them beneath him, but now he wondered if that was the way she would make him the ‘best version of himself’? 

_“But if I know you, I know what you’ll do...”_ She flopped down onto her back and threw broken stems and flower petals into the air. As he expected, he could see the thin red cord attached to her finger, stretching toward him.

 _“You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”_ Solas chuckled quietly to himself. Of course she would be singing a love song for a _Somniari._

With a heavy sigh, he turned and walked away. She was too young, yet, for them to meet or for him to form a real attachment to her beyond knowing she existed. He would return in a decade or so to check in; after all, there were no spirits here within her Fade to harm her. In the meantime, he had much to learn of her world.

* * *

Her Fade was dead, and this was both good and bad, to Solas’s mind. On the one hand, it meant that it was stable; it did not shift or twist or bend, save at his command. However, it was also devoid of spirits, and the shades that populated the Void that surrounded it did not venture within, even when he attempted to coax them. 

Finding his way through her Veil was easy as well. When he slept here, he did not wake in Thedas, but instead in her world, like a Fade within a Fade. 

Solas had once thought Thedas a world of Tranquil, but this was something else entirely. The world she lived in was beyond Tranquil, as if it were only comprised of _dwarves._ As far as he had discovered in his wanderings, his soulmate was the only person who dreamed in the Fade. The rest of them were dead to it. While it comforted him that she could one day learn magic, it also meant that her world only had a concept for magic in songs and stories - there was no established way she could learn without him there to guide her. 

He did not like to linger overlong amidst her people. The dwarves of Thedas, at least, despite their disconnection from the Fade still believed, they still had hope, they still strove for something greater than themselves. Her people elevated the self above all other things, lashing out and harming one another in an effort to fill the void that the Fade and Magic had left in their hearts. The only comfort he could take was the knowledge that he would pluck her out of all this and take her somewhere far better. If nothing else, it strengthened the resolve that he must undo his great mistake and rend the Veil, to prevent the People from becoming like this.

In that time, Solas made some concessions - an illusion to hide his pointed ears was all it took for him to blend in amongst her world, and he walked through it a stranger, just another face on the street, looking for a way to tell her his story. This, more than anything, was important to him. If she was truly to be his, he would not suffer her to live in ignorance. His soulmate must know who he was, what he was going to do - well, would have already done, when he took her to Thedas - and still choose to be with him. He would not lie with her under false pretenses. He would only have honesty between them, even if it pained him. Thus he placed his tale in the dreams of men who made a media unique to her world - these “video games” - casting himself the villain, and waited to see what would come of it. 

Nearly sixteen years had passed since he had last seen her, when a sight that made him homesick caught his eye - an elvhen woman, her hand bristling with magic in the ruins of their people’s once-great civilization stared out him from the cover a magazine next to the words “Dragon Age Origins.”

Solas smiled and allowed himself to slip back into the Dead Fade, looking down at his hand and the red string stretching out before vanishing into mist. Mayhaps he should visit her again.

* * *

She stood amidst a strange ruin in a forest - the cement husk of what had once been a house’s basement, overgrown with moss and fungi with great, leafless trees towering overhead. Snow fell down from a moonlight sky, and she did not move as it caught in her hair and skin. She was a woman now, so he stepped out of the shadows and approached, letting his footfalls be heard.

Turning toward him, Solas could see she had been weeping, the kohl - _mascara,_ he reminded himself - around her eyes leaving black tracks down her cheeks as she frowned at him in confusion. 

He stopped and leaned heavily on his staff. “Greetings, _da’len_.”

“Who are you?” she asked, and wiped the smeared makeup from her face. Though he knew in the waking world it would not have done much, her _perception_ of herself returned to what she perceived as “put together”, and it amused him. She was not _pretty_ or _cute_ by her people’s standards, but another decade would grant her the timeless beauty that her world’s great masters glorified in art. 

“My name does not matter,” he replied, “you will know it soon enough.” A beat as he took a breath, then asked, “Why are you weeping?”

She swallowed. “My husband has been having an affair. He left me for his girlfriend because he knocked her up.”

Solas froze on the spot, first at the mention of a husband - he had not considered that in his waiting she might seek other companionship - then as he sought the root meaning through her use of colloquialisms. When it finally made sense, he winced. Some among the People did not mind their partners seeking other beds, having other families, but in that instant it was quite clear to him she _would._

He glanced up, and saw she was watching him. _“Ir abelas, da’len.”_

“What does that mean, _‘Ear Robellas’?”_ She frowned. “What language is it?”

Chuckling to himself, he stepped closer. “You’re over emphasizing the ‘R’. It is not the rhotic-r that you are used to. Let it fall off the edge of the tongue, and begin the second word with the vowel.”

She pursed her lips for a moment, then tried again. _“Ir Abellas.”_

“Much better. Emphasize the ‘L’ a little less.” He came far closer than he ever had before, and gripped his staff so tightly that his knuckles went white. _Soon,_ he thought, _but not yet._

 _“Ir Abelas,”_ she said, and the sound of his native tongue in her voice, sob-wracked though it was, sent an electric thrill through him and twisted at his heart. 

“Perfect,” he whispered. “And to answer your questions, _vhen’an’ara,_ it is the language of the People, the Elvhen, and it means ‘I am sorry.’” They stared at each other for a handful of breaths before she turned away. He hated it. He wanted just a few more moments, so he blurted the question in the back of his mind before he could think it productive. “Why did you marry? You are meant for someone far greater.”

She glanced down at her hands and scowled. “Then where is he? I’m not getting any younger here.”

“He waits, with great longing, for you to be ready.” It was not a lie.

“To be ready?” She laughed. “For what? I’m almost twenty-three! I’m a grown adult, in the middle of a divorce.”

“You must know his story,” Solas offered. “Then he will come to claim you.”

“Well, start talking then,” She still would not turn back to him.

“I…” Solas frowned. “Do you play video games?”

She laughed at the absurdity of his question and ran a hand through her hair. “Yes, why?”

“Have you heard of this new game, _Dragon Age?”_

“I have, don’t know if I’ll play it though - I mostly stick to MMOs.”

 _MMOs?_ he thought. _I must research._ “You should play them. I had them made so that I could introduce you to the tale of Fen'Harel and the world in which he resides.”

She shifted slightly and stared up at the moon as snow caught on her eyelashes. “I guess getting obsessed with a new IP isn’t a horrible way to get over my shitty ex,” she shrugged.

Solas exhaled in relief. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me; you’re just a figment of my imagination, giving me advice I know to be true.”

“I am _not,”_ he bristled. “I am -” he stopped himself, taking a deep breath. He could not tell her yet. “I am here on behalf of Fen’Harel, to watch over you.”

“And he gave you no way to prove the reality of what you say,” she smirked.

Chewing on his lip, Solas held out a hand. “He would give you a gift, if you would sing for him. And another, if you will answer a question.”

“Sing?” she laughed. “I haven’t sung since I was a child.”

“He heard you then and found it… endearing.” _A love song for a Somniari,_ he remembered. “You sang of meeting your lover in dreams. He would hear it again.”

A strange light came into her eyes as she looked at him, and her mouth twisted in a smirk. “Is he here to hear it?”

 _I will not lie to her,_ Solas thought. “I will carry the memory within myself, so that he can hear it when he wishes. Do you remember the song? Something about… the gleam in one's eyes being familiar?”

Laughter bubbled up from her again, and at last her tears had stopped. “I do. It’s from _Sleeping Beauty.”_

 _“Sleeping Beauty?”_ he asked. “I do not know it.”

“The fairy tale?”

Solas shook his head, and to his delight, her smile grew bright across her face. “There are many versions, but they all follow the same theme - a princess is cursed by an evil fae spirit for a slight committed by her parents, that forces her into an enchanted sleep, that can only be broken by her true love. Prince Charming finds his way into the palace, to her bedchamber, and…” she giggled. “Different versions of the story say what happens. In some, he has sex with her unconscious body. In others, it’s merely their first kiss. Regardless, it is a physical expression of his romantic love, and it wakes her. Then they return to his kingdom and live happily ever after.”

 _Oh yes,_ Solas thought. _Fate is certainly mocking me at this point._ He looked down at his outstretched hand, about to pull it back, when she placed her own hand in it. She was warm, so very warm, and came into the circle of his arms without fighting when he pulled her close.

“Do you still want me to sing it?” She asked.

“Yes.” His voice was half-command, half-begging, and it damned him more than he was willing to admit. “But close your eyes, and think of something beautiful. Something that would give you peace.”

She leaned against him, and Solas knew without needing to ask that her eyes were shut. As she inhaled to begin the song, he pushed his mana into her, to see what she would create for herself.

 _”I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream,”_ she sang, and the snow on the ground began to melt, giving way to stone and grass that were the dark indigo of twilight.

 _”I know you, that gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.”_ The trees that surrounded her ruins straightened, growing even taller, thicker, and more healthy.

 _”And I know it’s true, that visions are seldom all they seem.”_ Overhead, the snow stopped, and the clouds parted to reveal a starlit sky, with the constellations of Thedas dancing overhead.

 _”But if I know you, I know what you’ll do...”_ A strange glow seemed to press out of the cracks in the trees’ bark, and he felt the ambient mana of her world pressing in on them both.

 _”You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”_ Solas tightened his grip on her as his eyes widened in shock. _Lyrium._ [FN] had turned the trees to the purest lyrium, and it’s white glow illuminated the ruins as brightly as the noonday sun, the Titan’s Song echoing her own and filling this corner of the Dead Fade with her music.

[FN] stepped away from him, and he saw a soft blush heating her cheeks. _Whomever decides such things as this,_ he thought, with a surreptitious glance at the string tied to his littlest finger that seemed to reach, despairingly, towards the one tied to her own, _they must be quite amused right now._

“Beautiful, _da’len ,”_ he said, and allowed himself to drink in the surroundings. “Now for your gift.” He reached out with the touch of a _Somniari,_ , and cemented her changes into place, making the ruins permanent. “This place will not fade, or vanish when you wake. When you dream, you may return here if you so choose.”

She smiled softly and looked up at the stars. “Thank you.” 

He held her close for a few more moments, trying to make sense of what was going on. A woman born of the Void, in another world with a Dead Fade, could sing lyrium into existence. He had gone with Inquisitor Trevelyan into the depths, past the Deep Roads. He had seen the Titan’s guardian and heard it Sing. He knew what lyrium truly was, and this woman could call it forth with the same ease that he might summon flame to hand.

Solas chided himself into silence. This was a minor concern, to be researched and understood after his more immediate tasks were finished - wait for the Inquisitor to die, tear down the Veil, and bring her through the Fade back to Thedas. Then they could find those answers together.

Suddenly cognizant of the fact that he held her tightly, the woman stepped away and watched him carefully. “You said you also had a question.”

He coughed. “What is your name, _vhen’an’ara?”_

Her laughter surprised him when she said, “[FN]. [FN] [LN].”

“[FN],” he repeated, and he could feel the magic of their connection on his tongue as he did. Solas tugged the wolf’s jawbone necklace off and pressed it into her hands. “Keep this close,” he said. “If you have it, and you call for me, I will come.”

“And what name should I call, as you haven’t given me yours?”

He blushed. “Aah. You can call me Solas.”

“Solas,” [FN] said, and took a step closer to him. Her smile vanished, replaced by contemplative confusion. He longed to say her name again and kiss her, to capture the magic between them here and now. But [FN] held fire and innocence still, and those needed to be turned into pragmatism and conviction; only time could do that.

“Do you think he’ll like me?” she asked.

“Who?” he breathed.

“Fen'Harel.”

Solas laughed. _“ Da’len,_ he will love you.”

* * *

Solas ran across the Void, shaping stones under his feet to catch him as he made his way toward her world, and threw himself into the dead Fade. 

He had been gone longer than he’d planned. The Inquisitor was dying, and his agents were getting restless. What had been intended to be a short trip to visit his old friend had become a multi-year sojourn as he ensured things were prepared. His plans were almost finalized - everything was so close. He would go back, and if [FN] would have him, claim her, then have her wait a little longer while he tore down the Veil, and dealt with the worst of the consequences. Once things were more settled, he would bring her out of the Void and back to Thedas. All would be well.

He searched for her through the empty Fade, seeking the only sign of life, the ruins he’d made for her. As he plunged between the glowing trees, they whispered his name in her voice back to him, a thousand times over. 

“Solas.”

He whirled to see she stood before him, older still. Mid-thirties, if he had to guess, and by all that was and would be, she was beautiful. [FN]’s hair hung unbound around her shoulders, and she wore a simple silk nightgown that hid her figure from him, while stray breezes tantalized him with the impression of her curves.

“[FN].” He composed himself and straightened. “Did you play the games?”

She paused a moment, as if thinking. “I’m starting the last one tomorrow. I saw your face. I had forgotten.”

“Those who are not used to walking their dreams often forget what they find on this side.”

“I saw your face,” she said it again, and something twisted joyfully in his heart. She had recognized him in the waking world. “It made me remember.”

He nodded. “I’m glad.”

“You are… something is bugging you,” she said, matter-of-fact. “Tell me.”

“I had to leave,” he whispered, and found his hand cupping her cheek. He had not remembered telling himself to touch her. “Things required my attention.”

“You promised me something,” she said, and he let his hand drop back down to his side. “I don’t remember what. Something I am waiting for.”

“You are so close now, _vhen’an’ara,_ that it may be better if the words spoken in that game remind you.” He hesitated, then spoke again. “May I ask for an indulgence?”

“What?” Her smile told him she did not plan to refuse him, but in her eyes he read her guarded heart. She knew better than to promise anything with the breathless whispers of childhood. [FN] was ready to be his _vhen’an._ Now to just let her make her own decisions about him.

“I would like to watch you, from the dreaming world. There are things within the tale of which I…” Solas pursed his lips, and sighed. “I wish you to know the full story, before we speak again. It does not paint me in the best light. But I would like to see your face, your reactions, and when it is done, I will be here to answer your questions.”

“A voyeur, are you?” Her voice was light, almost teasing.

He smirked. “Yes. In most respects. I like to learn what I can before making a decision.”

“I wish I could. I only seem to remember you here, but not there, not _really,_ and even now the things I remember are hazy,” [FN] said. 

Solas reached for her again, and this time she stepped closer. He placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb over her skin through the silk. “You will learn to remember. I will teach you, if you wish, after you have heard the tale.” He swallowed the yearning rising in his chest. “I will teach you anything you ask.”

[FN] smiled sadly. “I wish this was real.”

“It is.”

She shook her head, and her voice took on a strange cadence. “You talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain, begot of nothing but vain fantasy.” 

His mouth opened slightly, and his confusion must have been evident on his face, because she laughed again, and kissed his cheek. “It’s Shakespeare.”

“What is Shakespeare?” Solas asked. He tried not to think of how her lips had felt on his skin.

“I see I’m not the only one who has things to learn.” She giggled. “He was a famous playwright, from a few hundred years ago.”

“And he claimed to be an expert on dreams?” he said, tilting his head toward her.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Then share your wisdom, Solas. What is the true nature of dreaming?”

“They are a way to learn about the world around you, to change it as you see fit. To know what has been, what is, and what could be.”

She smirked. “Things that are, things that were, and some things… that have not yet come to pass.”

Solas froze as he realized he could feel her breath on his chin as she spoke. A single tilt of his head and he would be kissing her. It was tempting, if he was being honest with himself, but he would not let himself have any of her until she knew the truth. What they could have together was too precious to risk with lust or greed.

“There are many things that have not yet come to pass, but will, and soon,” he whispered, his voice raw. “But not yet. Go. I will be watching you. And when you know the story we will speak again. I swear it.”

“On what?”

“On this.” He laced his fingers with hers and lifted their clasped hands so she could see the red cord that bound their little fingers, both ends straining toward each other but not yet joined. They wouldn’t, not until he had claimed her, in the old ways, both publicly and discreetly.

[FN]’s eyes focused on the cord, and confusion rippled across her face. “Where did that come from?”

“It is a sign,” Solas replied simply.

“Of what?”

“I will tell you the next time we meet.”

“So many promises for the future,” she rolled her eyes. “I have had enough of the promises of men. Give me something now, some proof that any of this matters.”

“A demanding thing you are,” he teased. “Are you always like this?”

Something hardened in her. “Worse,” she turned from him. “I learned a long time ago how hard this world would be. I know this isn’t real, this is just my mind giving me idle flirtations to ease the heartache. You only come when my heart is broken, after all.”

“What do you mean?” The lyrium trees scattered around the ruins began to hum.

“The first time I saw you was the day my first husband ran off with his mistress. And now, tonight, is the night after I finalized my divorce with the one who _hurt_ me.” Her eyes were sharp, piercing in their intensity. 

“You will not be here to answer my questions again. I’m thirty-four years old. The time for love, for romance, for anyone to want _me_ has long passed. The reason you’re here today is that my heart is broken for the last time. Not because I am divorced again, but because I’m done with men. Men like you, with your pretty promises and sweet words and grand, but ultimately _pointless_ gestures.” She turned, waving her hand at the ruins. “My heart is broken because I have finally accepted the truth that there is no happily ever after. Not for me. At least I have the comfort that there’s, at most, fifty more years of this bullshit and then they put me in the ground.”

His mind was reeling at her words, trying to keep up with her anger and accusations, but they focused on one thing. “Only fifty years?”

“What, you thought I’d live hundreds of years like the elves in stories?” [FN] scoffed. “Wouldn’t that be torture. No, if I’m lucky, I’ll be hit by a car tomorrow. But more likely, I’ll live alone for another thirty to forty years, then my brother’s children will put me in a home for the last ten.”

“You will live longer than that,” he said. “Your people may not, but you will.”

“In dreams, we all live forever.” She chuckled.

“No,” Solas approached her again. “You will live as long as I.”

“And how long will you live, Solas?”

“Until I choose to sleep, to dream forever. Then I will take you with me into the _Uthenera_ , until we choose to wake again.”

“More pretty promises.” Her words were like daggers.

“What would you have of me?”

“You? Nothing.”

He winced. “You believe none of this is real, that I am a figment of your imagination. That none of this has a point. How would you like me to prove the reality to you?”

“The longer I am here the more I remember. You spoke to me once of Fen’Harel. You implied he cared for me, or would _care.”_ The word dripped with venom. “How will he react when his messenger makes off with me instead?”

“Don’t avoid the question,” Solas said. “What could prove it?”

“Nothing,” she replied. “I refuse to hope.”

“When you see me again, after you have learned the truth, we will speak again.”

“Because you are Fen'Harel.” She was not asking. She had put the pieces together.

He sighed. “Because I am Fen'Harel.”

“Why did you choose me?”

“I didn’t.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but a loud, raucous alarm filled the ruins, and she vanished, startled into wakefulness.

With great care, he crafted a spring in the corner of their ruins, that fed into a small pond. Her face appeared before him in the water and a moment later she was sitting up in bed, touching the jawbone on a strand around her neck, confusion writ across her brow.

 _“Ir abelas, vhen’an.”_ he murmured. “Only a little longer.”

* * *

Solas lingered by the spring, watching [FN] as she prepared for her day. She brushed her hair back, pulling it up behind her head. Her fingers touched the gift he had given her, but she hesitated a moment before letting it drop beneath her shirt. It pleased him to know she still wore it after all this time.

Her home was small, a simple apartment, and he imagined sitting beside her as she sat at her desk, and loaded up the game. In this last instance, she would play the Inquisitor, one of the few friends he felt any inkling of mercy towards. How would she lead the Inquisition?

To his surprise, she chose to play a Dalish mage, and spent more time than was necessary crafting her face and hair. Though the visage she made was beautiful, he found himself… irritated. It was not _her._

Then, the first of many moments he waited for - when the Inquisitor stumbled upon him and Varric fighting some of the spirits from the Fade that had come through the Breach. What would she say when she saw him? Would she even remem-

“Solas.” Her voice was hard, and he watched in fascination as she spurred her character down the steps, into the fray, between his avatar and the creatures that were attacking. She was brave, fearless, and he saw the same core of steel that took him to task in the Fade last night echoed in the way she commanded her own character.

[FN] cast spells with reckless abandon, giving no thought to her own safety, and he marvelled at how she tore through the enemies the diversion presented her. She made decisions and arguments quickly, without remorse, the only sign of guilt or regret a small tightening of her lips. He longed to touch her, to smooth the furrows that appeared in her forehead when the chancellor made accusations, to kiss the corners of her mouth and ease the frown that came when soldiers died to enact her plans. 

Then, their first meeting, after the rift below the Breach had been sealed - [FN] sought him out in Haven near the Alchemist, leaving her character to just stand there while she thought. Her fingers brushed the jawbone under her shirt, and she stood, going to her refrigerator and taking out a brown bottle. 

Solas was surprised. Beer did not seem like the kind of thing she would drink; he had expected wine. But as she opened the bottle and he caught the vaguest memory of the scent, he laughed. Something better - something more her than either beer or wine: _cider._ While she drank, and made a small meal, he let himself imagine her in Thedas, in his arms, beneath the boughs of trees mid-autumn. She was made for a better world than this of harsh stone and a dead Fade. 

A sound brought his attention back, she was giggling, and talking to his avatar. They went through the steps of a simple conversation, but she pressed him, more and more, for information about elves, until suddenly she began _flirting_ with him.

Amusement touched his heart at the idea. Though her waking mind did not know what he was, she still reached out for him. 

He let the days slip by as he watched her in delight. [FN] walked the knife’s edge between kindness and conviction in her choices, and he saw the Inquisition flourish under a rule of magic rather than a rule of the sword, as was the way of the true Inquisitor. It pained his heart, a little, thinking of what might have been, but it also firmed his resolve. She had made an Inquisition where mages could stand tall and not fear for their safety. He would make that world for her.

But soon, too soon, she came to the truth.

Her face grew still as he confessed everything to her Inquisitor - that he was Fen’Harel, that he was the ancient elven trickster god. That he had sealed away the Evanuris and that he intended to tear away the Veil, destroy the world, and save his people. 

[FN] finished the game in silence, and her face did not move, save her jaw setting harder and harder as the other characters, shadows of those he had called friends, agreed with her to disband the Inquisition. She made a simple meal for herself, ate her dinner, then took two pills before she went to sleep. 

That night she did not dream.

It took him longer than it should have, he realized later, to see what she was doing. His soulmate was using pills to put herself in a dreamless sleep, so that she would not journey to the Fade. Did she think this place contained him, he wondered? How much of their shared dreaming did she remember when she woke? 

Regardless, when the moon had gone through all her faces and still his _vhen’an’ara_ turned to pills to avoid him, he felt the time had come to approach her as himself, at last, in her world.

* * *

It was past sunset as Solas approached the door to [FN]’s apartment. He knew he must look ridiculous, but for this conversation, he would not use the facade with which he walked his word. She was his _vhen’an’ara,_ and he would not have this conversation as anything other than himself. She had heard the whole tale, and it was time to make his case.

Her neighbor’s dog barked viciously as he walked by, but a flick of his fingers and the creature fell into silence, taken by mere sleep, to wake in an hour or so. Solas did not want to draw more attention to himself than necessary. 

His finger hesitated before her doorbell. She was not trained in magic yet, thus could not remember the Fade and most likely did not remember him. But this… this she _would_ remember. He would only get one chance at a first impression in her waking world.

Solas bit the tip of his tongue to steel his courage and pressed the doorbell. [FN] was his soulmate. The rest could be sorted later, but he could not have the promises that red thread provided until he reached out to her at last.

He could hear shuffling behind the door, and [FN]’s voice called, “Just a sec!” Then the door opened and she was there.

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments, he in golden armor with a wolf pelt draped over her shoulder, her in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt that had an image of the Kirkwall Chantry exploding with the words “ANDERS WAS RIGHT” scrawled across the center. The absolute absurdity of the situation struck him, causing the damn of his anxiety to break, and he laughed uncontrollably. 

She remained silent, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe while he got control of himself. “F-forgive me, _vhen’an’ara,”_ he said, straightening as his laughter calmed. “I have waited decades for this moment, and I fear my anxiety got the best of me.”

[FN] still said nothing, so he placed a hand to his chest. “My name is So-”

“I know who you are.” Her voice was short and clipped. “I’m currently setting aside the fact that you shouldn’t exist and shouldn’t be real so I can process what you are doing here.” 

_Of course,_ he thought. _To her I am a character from a fairy story come to life. I will have to go slowly._ Solas smiled. “I have come because you are my soulmate. My _vhen’an’ara._ I had hoped we could get to know each other a little better.”

She blinked twice and said, in perfect Elvhen, _“Pala mar’lin,”_ then slammed the door in his face.


	2. I am Molly Grue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas slowly ingratiates himself to [FN].

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, mouse over Elvhen words to see their translations.

Solas blinked in confusion at the now-closed door. Things went so well in the Fade. Maybe he should try to approach her there. Maybe he should -

“Oh my god! That is an _amazing_ Solas cosplay!” 

Surprised by the feminine voice behind him, he turned to find a young woman clutching a bag. “Oh. Thank you,” he said. “Forgive me, but how do you know -”

“[FN]’s my big sister!” The girl held out her hand. “I’m Andie. Well, Andra, but everyone _calls_ me Andie.”

“I see. Is she usually so fractious?” he asked as they shook hands.

“Oof, you hit on her, didn’t you?” Andie winced. “She gets real touchy about that. Do you live around here?”

“Yes…” he lied. 

“Okay. Go change really quick and come back. I’ll introduce you properly,” she said kindly. “[FN]’s a total grouch if you don’t have a way in.”

He doubted her rejection had much to do with that, especially given her words had been in Elvhen, but he nodded. “Thank you, Andie. I’ll be right back.” 

He walked around the edge of the building and pulled the glamour that disguised his appearance for mortal eyes - his ears going rounded at the same time his armor gave way to a dark, slim-fitting henley and a pair of jeans. Then he began to add accoutrements - a watch on one wrist, a cellular phone in one pocket and a wallet in the other. These affectations were easy, and Solas nodded when he caught his reflection in a nearby window. He seemed, for all the world, a normal man.

When he returned to the porch, Andie was carrying bags from her car towards the door. “Here,” he said, “I didn’t realize you needed help. Allow me.”

She giggled up at him, and didn’t fight when he walked with her to the car and took the rest of her bags easily. “Such a gentleman! Though, if I’m going to introduce you to [FN] I should _probably_ know your name.”

“Oh, right, forgive me. I’m S-” He probably should not give his real name, but something close, so he’d still answer. “Silas. Silas Fennarel.”

“Silas?” she laughed. “No wonder you cosplay Solas, a dead ringer for the guy and a similar name. You must be popular at cons.” 

“Yes,” he agreed. “What do you do for a living?” He hated that question, but it was a common one amongst the people of this world.

“I’m an office assistant at a local clinic. You?”

As ‘Ancient Elvhen Sorcerer’ and ‘Evanuris’ were likely to be met with laughter or derision, he said, “Professional political dissident.”

Andie laughed. “I’m sure that pays well.”

_Right,_ he thought, _something that pays well._ “In my spare time I’m a doctor, but I’ve been taking a sabbatical; for the dissidency.” He may not be willing to lie to [FN], but her sister was not a problem.

“Oh! Really?” She suddenly looked excited. “Looking to get admitting privileges anywhere?”

“We’ll see if I have a reason to remain,” he glanced pointedly towards [FN]’s door.

“You must have it bad,” Andie said, and rang the doorbell. “How did you meet her?”

“Oh, you know,” Solas said, and the door opened. He looked up at [FN], at her stoic face and lifted eyebrow. “Once upon a dream.”

* * *

[FN]’s apartment was tiny, but efficiently organized. Andie busied herself putting away groceries, filling the air around them with chatter while [FN] made dinner and Solas lingered awkwardly in the doorway, painfully aware there was no place for him here.

His _vhen’an’ara,_ said little, only making vague noises that she was listening as her sister introduced him as “Dr. Silas Fennarel” and called him a friend. Once the groceries were away, Andie pulled three brown bottles from the refrigerator and opened them, setting one beside her sister and handing one to Solas before taking a seat at the table with the last. “I’m gonna work on my homework, okay sis? You and Silas should chat!”

She finally turned from the stove, giving Andie a withering look, but her sister did not seem to notice and pulled headphones on over her ears as she started typing on her laptop, effectively leaving them alone to converse without leaving the room.

Rolling her eyes, [FN] turned back to the stove, and Solas tentatively approached, unsure of what to say. Thankfully, she spoke instead. _“An’daran Atish’an.”_

Solas swallowed. Her use of his native tongue was a kindness, he knew - even when she had cursed at him earlier. He had so many questions for her, but was unsure where to begin, so he settled on a traditional response, _“En’an’sal’enast ea amahn.”_

Her brow furrowed for a moment in thought. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “My Elvhen is shit.”

He laughed. “I don’t know, you did well earlier.”

“I’d think you’d have gotten the hint if I had,” she said, and flipped the food in the wide pan with practiced ease.

“You know who I am,” he said. “Do I really seem like the type to do as I’m told?”

She smiled, a crooked thing that didn’t reach her eyes. “I suppose not.” Finally, [FN] looked up at him and met his eyes. “Why are you here?”

“As I said. You are my _vhen’an’ara,_ my soulmate. The final goal of my _Lath’anshiral.”_

“I remember _vhen’an.”_ Her voice was almost accusatory. “But what does the rest mean?”

“The _Lath’anshiral_ is the journey one takes once they have discovered the red thread tied to a finger, they follow it to find their other half.”

“And you think that’s me.” The flat tone of her voice made it clear she did not agree.

“I _know_ it is you. We have spoken in the Fade,” he said, leaning against the counter.

Frowning, she glanced at Andie sitting at the table, then back to him. “I don’t remember it.”

“I haven’t taught you magic, yet. You’ll remember properly once I do.” Solas took a drink from the bottle and smiled. It was cider, and for some reason he found it fitting. “We can start tonight, if you like.”

“So, do you happen to know what the drugs were hidden in? Because I don’t remember doing any hallucinogens recently.” [FN] turned a knob on the stove and the flames beneath her pan lowered.

“You’re not drugged.”

“Bullshit.” She added a touch of salt. “Prove it.”

“How? What would prove it to you? I have seen your world and you are the only mage in it. So, any magic I demonstrated would only be seen as a further hallucination. I tried approaching you as myself and we saw how _that_ went.” Solas waited a few moments for her response. “The question isn’t rhetorical, [FN]. What type of evidence would suffice?”

“I’m thinking,” she said, then stirred the contents of her pan before turning off the heat completely. “Time, I guess.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Stick around, I guess. I might warm up to you, I might not, who knows?” She leaned past him toward a cabinet full of plates, and he realized they were intimately close. 

“Doesn’t the prince just kiss Sleeping Beauty, and she awakens?” Solas asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Maybe that would have worked a dozen years ago,” she replied. “But even if I am your soulmate, you took too long to find me. I’m not Aurora anymore.” Her eyes met his, tired and irritable and screaming for help she was too proud to ask for. “I’m Molly Grue.”

“Who is Molly Grue?” he asked, but she ignored him, pulling three plates from the cupboard and filling them from the pan.

“Andie!” Her voice raised in volume, and her sister pulled off her headphones. “Food’s ready.”

“Ooh!” She got up and walked over, taking a plate from [FN]. “Poblano Chicken! I knew you loved me!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” [FN] said. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.” Andie walked back to the table while [FN] handed Solas a plate as well. “Here you go.”

_“‘Ma Serannas,”_ he replied.

She picked up her own plate, and then, to his surprise, squeezed his free hand with hers. _"De da'rahn."_

[FN]'s sister filled the void again over dinner, talking excitedly about her classes, her job at the clinic, and every other thought that entered her head. [FN] listened, occasionally asking questions, and though Solas never caught her looking he could feel her eyes on him, weighing and assessing his every action against a rubric he had yet to understand.

The food was delicious, though nostalgic to his palate - rich and spicy, far more dynamic than his usual fare, but exactly the kind of thing he would have expected to eat in Ancient Arlathan, before his Great Mistake. If anything, it reinforced that this woman was his _vhen'an'ara_ just as much as her grasp on his language.

Her repeated request for proof, both in the Fade and here, at least gave him some kind of hope. It may not be the grand and welcoming invitation he had dreamed of, tumbling into her arms and bed and having the kind of love poets sang of, but it was at least an open door - even if it was only a crack.

After dinner, while [FN] took their plates to the sink, Andie motioned Solas to one side. "So, how's it going?" she whispered.

"She's still mistru- Wait," he asked, scowling down at her. "Why are you _helping_ me?"

Andie giggled. "[FN] needs someone. She hasn't left her apartment in _weeks._ The pain of everything that happened…" She looked over at her sister. "She needs to come back out of her shell. I'll do anything to see it happen, even help a random guy I found on her doorstep, if necessary."

"I'm… probably going to be around a while. She said I should give her time." He confessed.

The girl's face immediately brightened. "That's great! She didn't reject you outright!"

"Well, she did curse at me when I came in the armor."

"Obviously. She's probably still angry about everything." Andie grinned. "That's okay! You can get a job at my clinic! One of the doctors is retiring and it would be good to have someone to take his place."

"I… uh…" he began, but she was already digging through her bag. 

"Here you go!" She offered him a slip of paper with a few names and numbers on it. "Call me tomorrow around ten. I'll call the hospital we work with and let them know you're going to fax over your credentials, they can set you up with admitting privileges and you can interview with the other doctors and the office manager later this week."

Solas looked dumbfounded down at the paper she had handed him. "You're being… unreasonably kind. Giving me both an introduction to your sister and assisting me with finding employment when I've known you less than two hours…" He raised an eyebrow. "What if I'm some terrible villain who's going to break [FN]'s heart?"

"Honestly, if you managed to both break her heart and survive it, I'd be surprised." 

"You think she'd kill me?" he asked.

"If you're lucky. One day, [FN] will be Queen by her own hand." Andie said it with such conviction that it took Solas a moment to realize how _out of place_ the phrase was in the modern world. 

"What do you mean _'Queen by her own hand'?"_

"Oh," she giggled, "[FN]'s in the SCA! She's a knight! And she's going to make up for the last time she tried for the crown at the next tourney! You should see her with a sword! It's -"

"That's quite enough, Andie." [FN] came back in from the kitchen, drying her hands on a cotton towel embroidered with plumeria blossoms. "Shouldn't you be getting home? It's after eight."

"Yeah, okay _Mom,"_ she said, sticking out her tongue. "Silas, you'll call me tomorrow, right?"

Solas looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. "I suppose so."

"Okay! I'm heading home!" She grabbed her bag, shoving her laptop into it roughly before giving [FN] a hug, then moving on to hug Solas as if he'd known her for years. Then she was gone, out the door with a hollered, "Bye!" Thus the two of them were, abruptly, alone.

They stood in silence for a few moments, before [FN] sighed. "She is entirely too trusting."

He chuckled. "Even if it has worked out to my advantage, I must agree with your assessment."

"So, is this the point where the drugs wear off and you evaporate?" she asked, walking past him into the living room. 

"I have no intentions of evaporating, [FN]," he chided. "You asked for time. You shall have it. As much as I can spare."

Her eyes flicked toward her desk, and the computer sitting on it. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Are you… are you Fen'Harel, how he's presented in the game? Are you planning to destroy the Veil, obliterate millions, possibly billions of lives?" she asked.

She was direct, if nothing else. "Yes. Everything presented in the series was true, at least as far as my intentions are concerned. There were some differences between the way you chose to direct things and reality, but the broad strokes are correct."

[FN] nodded, then quick as lightning, slapped him hard across the face. The sharp _crack!_ was as much a shock to him as the pain in his cheek, and he looked at her in confusion. "That's for dumping the Inquisitor in Crestwood."

Solas scowled. "That didn't _actually_ happen! I never dated the Inquisitor. _He_ and I were just friends."

"Still. I cried over you, you get slapped!" She crossed her arms and looked away, but after a few breaths relaxed and looked back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have struck you." With a toss of her hair, she closed her eyes and braced herself. "You get a free shot."

He shook his head and decided to take advantage of the offer a different way. His arms slipped around her waist, and he pressed his cheek against hers, his lips at her ear. _"Emas 'ma dirtha'vhen'an, tel'judiran na. Amas i ara'len."_ Then he pressed his lips to the top of her cheekbone as he pulled away.

Her fingers caught his arms tightly, so he remained close, looking at her in confusion. "If you ever break that promise, you had better kill me with the first shot, because I will not give you a second chance."

"Don't misunderstand, _vhen'an,"_ he whispered into the tiny space between them. "We will fight. And I may well shake the very heavens with my rage; but _you_ will always be safe."

Lifting her eyes to his, Solas could feel the soft puff of her breath on his chin, just like he did a few weeks ago, the last time they spoke in the Fade. He wanted to kiss her, desperately, but she had asked for time; this was one relationship he would not risk on his impulsiveness. 

Still, he licked his lips, and reached one hand up, touching the jawbone necklace he had given her through the fabric of her shirt. "We should speak more in the Fade. I will teach you a spell or two, so you can remember."

* * *

The next six months flew by like startled birds. He took the job Andie arranged at her clinic, and befriended the girl despite himself. She was as loud and boisterous as Sera had been, but unlike the girl from Thedas, she was not nearly so crass. She also had the advantage of being related to his _vhen'an._ It was hard not to like someone who loved her.

Every night, he met [FN] in the Fade and taught her magic, though they rarely met in the waking world. She was a dutiful student, often asking after very specific spells - first Veilfire, which she mastered that first night, then various bits of storm magic interspersed with healing. The last of these, sadly, she did not have his knack for. [FN] could mend a minor scrape, but not a broken bone - and the readiness with which she injured herself to test her magic made him almost as uneasy as the way she did not scream or cry out or even _flinch_ at injuries that should have pained her greatly.

When he asked Andie about it, she merely shrugged. "[FN] is stubborn as they come, and will only show weakness in front of people she cares about."

Those words made him desperate to see weakness, and he looked for cracks in her armor every night - but she gave him nothing. As spring at last gave way to summer, and half a year had passed since the first night in the waking world, he began to despair that she might never let him in at all.

It was Andie, of course, who gave him the second opening.

"Silas!" she called as he was packing up to leave the clinic for the day. "Are you coming?" 

He rubbed his head. "Coming where?"

She waved her phone at him. "To get drinks for my birthday! I texted you!"

"When is it?" He did not like most of Andie's boisterous friends, who would come by the office just to chat, or spoke loudly on speakerphone, echoing off the tile floors. An evening with them seemed less than ideal.

"Tonight! We're heading to the restaurant now!"

Solas winced. "I don't know… I'm tired, and -"

"[FN] will be there. She already got a table." The girl smirked like a cat when she saw the immediate capitulation on his face. "She's all dressed up and everything." Andie moved in for the kill. "She even asked if you were coming."

"She did?" he asked, and winced again at the obvious hope in his voice.

"Yup! I told her I'd find out. What should I tell her?" For all that the girl knew she'd outplayed him, her voice had the air of innocence.

He groaned. "I'll be there. Let me run home, shower, and change. Text me the address of the place."

"I will!" She called, then started tapping on her phone. 

Once he had the address, Solas snuck off to be alone and crossed into the dead Fade. He would get there faster this way.

* * *

"Silas!" A cheer went up from the large table in the back when he entered, and Solas gave a slight wave to Andie and her friends while his eyes searched for [FN]. She was not there, but two seats were left open together, and to his surprise, a small purse hung from one of them. He approached, tentatively, and Andie gave him a smug nod as he took the empty seat. The table fell back into chatter, talking about popular movies and television shows while a waiter came by and took his order for a drink.

He _felt_ [FN]'s return a moment before she appeared on the periphery of his vision - he pulled the chair out for her and offered a slight smile. She said nothing, but sat down and allowed him to push the chair back in with one hand and a foot hooked around one leg. Then everything in the world seemed to stop when he felt her hand on his knee beneath the table, and she gave him a single, quick squeeze by way of greeting.

It was only a heartbeat, and then her hand was gone, and she was thanking the waiter for bringing his drink and chatting with her sister as if nothing had happened. Though they said little to each other, she did not object when he returned her touch with one of his own, an arm draped around her chair while his thumb brushed her far shoulder.

Solas told himself that was victory enough for one night, more than worth the price of suffering an evening of high-pitched giggles and bawdy jokes. Even without the touching it would have been enough, because every moment he spent around her was more evidence she was his soulmate; her contented silences were far more appealing than babbling to fill the void. It reminded him of the nights they spent together, walking the dead Fade while she practiced the spells he taught.

But as the drinks kept coming and Andie's friends dwindled away, they both became bolder, until it was just the three of them, and [FN]'s head was on his shoulder while her fingers twined with his in his lap. His heart burned in his breast with a desire to kiss her to the point that the only thing that stopped him was Andie's smirk.

"What?" [FN] asked, scowling at her sister. "You got me out of the house. Content yourself with that victory."

"Yeah," Andie agreed, and took another bite of the monstrously large slice of chocolate cake in front of her, then waved down the waiter. "But I had to tell you Silas was coming to do it."

[FN]'s scowl deepend and her cheeks flushed as she started to pull herself away from him. He had to do something - now, immediately, or it would be another six months until she let him in again.

"But _I_ only came because you told me she was coming." He argued, offering up vulnerability to match her own while the waiter dropped off a box and Andie's check.

His _vhen’an’ara_ froze beside him, and her sister laughed. "You two will talk _about_ each other until you're out of breath, but you haven't talked _to_ each other in months. Now you don't have an excuse." She stuck out her tongue and dumped the rest of her cake into the takeout container.

"What have I told you about meddling -" [FN] began.

"It's my birthday!" Andie argued, "I'll meddle all I want." She pulled out her phone. "And look how late it is! I'm going to go home and sleep. Good thing you both have the day off tomorrow. Silas, be a gentleman and pay [FN]'s tab." With that, she opened the black folder, shoved some cash into it, then snapped it shut. 

"Happy birthday, Andie," [FN] said resentfully as her sister walked away.

The two of them sat in silence, not speaking and not moving - as if by doing so they would be forced to acknowledge the sudden awkwardness of the situation - until the waiter approached and asked, "One check or two?"

"One," Solas said decisively.

* * *

"Was Varric half as hilarious as he comes across in the games?" [FN] asked, laughing into her drink. They had moved to a quiet bar down the street, and both were becoming more inebriated by the hour.

"Worse, or better, depending on your outlook," he replied. "I can only say that being Viscount is the only fitting punishment for his mischief."

"How cruel you are," she giggled. "So, it's going to kill me - he and Cassandra. It's a common fan-theory. Did they ever…?"

Solas snorted. "They probably would if either of them could overcome their pride."

"Can't relate," [FN] said, then, to his eternal shock, she _winked_ at him.

"Yes, neither of us know anything about pride," he teased.

To his surprise, she echoed the words of the Fear demon back to him. _"Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din."_

He shook his head. _"Banal nadas."_

[FN] looked away, running her finger along the rim of her glass. _"Ele."_

Taking a sip of his drink to give himself a moment to breath, he said, _"Sulevas…?"_

She pursed her lips and scowled. _"Eolasas asahn sulevan."_

_"Vis undirthalan sastrahn, eolasan eal leal re arulin,"_ he said, then took a drink. He needed whatever courage he could find for what he would say next. _"Nuvenan esalatha na."_

Watching her for a reaction, he was surprised when she picked up her glass and drained it in a single gulp. _"Ar dirthan na, tel'ame Aurora. Ame Molly Grue."_

Solas took her hand and brought it to his lips. _"Ane [FN]. Ane gaelathe. Ane ma'vhen'an'ara."_ He pressed gentle kisses to her fingers. Did she know the gift she gave him, that they were having this conversation in Elvhen?

_"Tel'ame da. Tel'ame bartuasha'te'lanem. Ame ha i unsouvera i elvar'nas."_ She tore her hand from his and pressed it to her face in an attempt to hide her tears.

He laughed, unable to help himself. _**"Ame** ha. Eman asan'enaan annaren. Tel'nuvenan bartuasha'te'lanem. Vis unnuvenan mah, Thedas em bel."_

Solas reached out boldly and brushed her hair from her cheek, then switched to her native language. It was important to him that she understood this more than anything. "A soulmate is not just a romantic partner, though that is part of it. They are a true companion, who will force you, for good or ill, to become the best version of yourself. They are not someone you can control, nor someone who can control you. They are an equal, to match you - even rival you - in all things." 

[FN] turned to face him, leaning her head on his hand. He couldn't help but smile and continue. "As I said, if I wanted some innocent, wide-eyed ingenue, Thedas has them by the thousands. Some blushing virgin with no life experience would never be able to hold her own against me. Yet when I came to _you_ as all I am, you told me to go fuck myself." He laughed into the alcohol. "How did you learn Elvhen, anyway?"

"The internet is a marvelous place," she mumbled. "And I was… attached."

"Attached?" Solas asked, motioning for the bartender to refill their drinks as he came by.

She sighed. "Everything was terrible, after my divorce - with the court case and all that." His eyebrows climbed at the words, but he kept his mouth shut. "I was playing Inquisition to try and get my mind off everything. And I saw you - well, the you in the game - and you felt familiar. I knew you from somewhere."

"Once upon a dream?" he interjected playfully, and he laughed again when she smiled.

"I became emotionally attached to the idea of a 'fictional character' because I thought it was safer than getting into another _real_ relationship." [FN] leaned against the back of the barstool. "Then you showed up on my porch... asking for a real relationship."

The bartender returned, dropping off two bottles of water rather than their drinks, and eyed Solas. "Time to settle up - we're closing."

"Closing, but it's -" [FN] dug into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. "Oh fuck, it's two." Her face became a mask of worry. "I'm way too drunk to drive home. I've got to -"

"I'll take you home," he offered, passing the bartender his card. "If you are all right with that?"

* * *

[FN] was far more inebriated than Solas had recognized, barely able to climb out of the cab. He slung one of her arms over his shoulders and led her up to her door. She giggled the whole way, and buried her face in the curve of his neck when they reached her stoop. "Mmm," she mumbled. "Solas."

He sighed. "You've had _far_ too much to drink, _vhen'an."_

"I was nervous," she mumbled, patting absently at her purse. "Keys…"

"Do you want me to get them?"

"Would you?" She looked up at him hopefully. "And help me inside?"

"Yes, yes," he chuckled and shifted her weight so she was leaning against his chest while he dug around in her bag. After a few minutes of fumbling while she snickered unhelpfully into his shoulder, he managed to get her door open. "Come on." 

He led her into her apartment and slumped her onto her couch before he returned to her front door, shutting and locking it. By the time he got back to her, [FN] was lying in the middle of her living room floor, music piping from her stereo system, and the heavy pressure in the air told him she had slipped into the Fade. Shaking his head, he allowed himself to slip back to the Fade beside her.

She was in the ruins, and the air hummed around her as the innate magic of the Dead Fade reacted to her drunkenness.

"You know you'll set something on fire if you don't sober yourself up," Solas said, walking to her side. 

[FN] slowed and turned to face him. "I can _do_ that?"

"If you applied yourself more to healing magic," he teased.

"I just don't have a talent for it," she pouted.

"Perhaps. Do you want me to help?" 

"If you sober me up I'll be afraid of you again," [FN] confessed.

Solas frowned. "Afraid of me? Why?"

"Oh, I don't know…" She stumbled and fell, catching herself on a nearby stone wall. "Spent the last six months learning magic from a guy who I'm super attracted to but plans to kill all the _shems_ as part of some -"

"I'm not planning to _kill_ them!" he interjected. 

_"Us,"_ she corrected. "Did you forget I'm human, too?"

"That doesn't matter! You have magic, you'll be fine!" 

"I'm not worried about me," [FN] snapped, pushing herself back to her feet. "I'm worried about all the people who will die if you rend the Veil."

"What?" he scowled. 

As she began to circle him, the Dead Fade reacted to her volatile, drunken emotions. "The humans. The dwarves. The fucking Qunari." The stones rattled at her feet. "How am I supposed to justify it when a man who claims I'm his soulmate wants to commit genocide?"

"I don't _seek_ to kill anyone," he said, shifting so he was facing her as she started walking behind him. "Their deaths are tragic, but unavoidable." The lyrium trees shook, the humming growing louder as whatever Song they sang filled the air, the beat pulsing in perfect time to her steps. _I have to calm her down,_ he realized, _She is the_ only _mage in this world - this Fade has only her emotions to feed on and reflect._

_"Tragic,"_ [FN] hissed, her voice all mockery. "Yet you would do nothing to prevent it."

"So you would have me ignore my people's suffering?" He started moving, circling closer to her. "Just let them continue to wallow in ignorance and oppression to spare the lives of their oppressors?"

"Their oppressors are human, just like me." 

"I don't see how that -"

"What will your precious People think when you tell them your _vhen’an’ara,_ is one of 'their oppressors?'" Her laugh was bitter and dark. "What was it Sera said? 'The elf always takes the elf, so that banging bits will mean something.'"

"[FN], you are very angry, and this is a discussion we should have - but not while you are this drunk." Solas was almost to her now. If he could just get within arms reach, he could use magic to clear the alcohol from her system.

She grimaced, her tongue lolling out. "'Drop 'em and rebuild the empire! Phwoar!'" Her voice sounded just like Sera's, and it was hard for him not to laugh at the impression. "How can I expect you to mean any of what you've said when you plan to take me to a world where everyone left alive will hate me for something I cannot change? They'll hate me for being human. They'll hate me for stealing you from a _proper_ elvhen -"

Solas caught her at last, pulling her against his chest as he let the cleansing magic wash through her. "They will love you, because you are my chosen companion."

"Liar." Though [FN]'s reply was still acerbic, the Fade around them quieted now that she was in control again. However, she made no attempt to leave his arms. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that. I drink when I'm afraid."

"Well, good to know you get angry when you're drunk now, rather than in the middle of something important," he teased.

"I don't get angry when I'm drunk, I lose my filter. I just become… _more,_ I guess."

"'More' isn't necessarily 'bad.'" He finally let himself look down at her face - he hadn't held her like this since that first night in her apartment six months ago. "And you have valid concerns that we should discuss; I had just hoped we might spend time learning how we fit together as a couple before we address them."

"I would feel better knowing where we stand before I let myself love you," [FN] countered. "But the bigger stuff - my disagreement with your plans for the Veil and all that - that can wait. I'm more concerned with how you justify my being human with your people's hatred of humans. How do you plan to deal with that? How will you stop them from doing stupid, like trying to kill me to 'free' you?" 

The specificity of her question made him realize she had been fretting over this for some time, if she was imagining specific scenarios. He stroked her cheek gently. "For someone who paid close attention to what Sera said, you didn't listen to much of it, did you?"

[FN] scowled. "Which bit?"

"The part about once the current regime comes down, it will have to be replaced. What do you think will happen then?"

"Them making you their leader? Yes, way ahead of you there. They'll be lost, and you'll be wandering around with the power of an Evanuris and the only one who remembers how to function in a world braided together with the Fade. That's why I think they would kill me to free you. Lie to me and say they would be oh-so-happy to see you with a shem on your arm."

"I told you I would not lie to you. This is why I plan to go back and rend the Veil before I bring you there - once the humans of Thedas are gone, they will _know_ you aren't one of their oppressors. And anyone who threatens you will have to answer to me."

"No." [FN]'s voice was hard. "They will answer to me. Didn't you hear Andie, back on that first night? I will be Queen by my _own_ hand."

Solas laughed and shook his head. "I still don't know what you mean by that."

"If you're not busy this weekend, you could come with me and find out." She eyed him. "It could be our first date."

_ "Ma Nuvenin, vhen'an." _


	3. Let Me Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [FN] prepares for an event, and invites Solas to join her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I am playing fast and loose with the SCA rules - this is for the narrative, friends.
> 
> Also I had to switch to using ` instead of ' in the translation mouseovers because it does not play well with apostrophes.

Solas took the afternoon off on Friday at Andie's insistence, heading over to [FN]'s small apartment as instructed. Piles of fabric that resolved into dresses when held up were scattered around the living room, surrounding the sisters in a halo of textiles while they argued over the merits of each. 

"You need something _regal,"_ Andie said, gesturing towards a pile of blue watered silk.

"I am not regal. I'd look ridiculous shoved into something like that." [FN] shook her head. "They will expect me in some T-tunics. I'll just wear T-tunics."

Her younger sister turned to him. "Silas, talk some sense into her. She can't wear a T-tunic to be named Princess."

"Named Princess?" he asked, stepping gingerly over the gowns to [FN]'s side, and Andie smiled her approval when he grasped her sister's hand. "I don't follow."

"This weekend is the crown tournament for this Kingdom in the SCA," [FN] explained. "I intend to compete."

"No!" Andie corrected. "You don't intend anything. You _will_ compete. You _will_ win!" She bent down and picked up the watered silk gown. "And you'll wear this when you are announced the winner, and named Crown Princess."

"In the SCA, the kings and queens serve for a set term of six months. Before that, they serve for six months as prince and princess after winning the tournament." She explained, squeezing his hand. "And I won't wear that."

"So you'll be fighting?" Solas asked, attempting to clarify. 

"Yep!" Andie nodded excitedly. "You should see her! She's so good!" She tried to shove the dress at [FN].

"I look forward to it," He said. "Is that what our 'date' is then?"

"I was thinking the event as a whole," [FN] replied, ignoring the wide-eyed grin her younger sister had broken into. "There will be lots to do besides the fighting. There's the feasts, the market, minstrels - Andie will be competing in that, various artists and crafters, as well as competitions for stuff like archery and axe throwing. It's a whole weekend, and I thought you might enjoy checking it out with me." Though her voice was strong, her anxiety was obvious in the way she would not meet his eyes. "Or you'll think this whole thing's terribly stupid and want to rethink this whole dating thing."

_"Vhen'an'ara,_ you know I -"

"You guys are _dating!?"_ Andie shrieked, unable to contain her excitement. "Oh, finally!"

"We're not dating," [FN] snapped. "He's coming with me to the tournament as a first date. We'll assess things afterward, to see if we want to continue."

"It will take a lot to change my mind," he countered, giving her a playful grin. "Since this will be a multi-day excursion, is there anything I should prepare?"

"Does he have any garb, Sis?" Andie asked in concern. "Or is he just gonna wander around all mundane?"

"Right… I was going to see if any of Sam's old stuff would fit him," [FN] said. "If not, I was gonna bring it to see if I could trade with the seamstresses. Actually, I should take him into my bedroom and have him try some stuff on…" 

Andie's smile went from excited to devious. "Wow, I suddenly remembered I left _all_ my camping gear at my apartment! I should go get it." She started moving toward the door. "I'll text you when I'm on my way back."

[FN] sighed. "We're not going to -"

"Bye! Be safe!" Her sister shouted, pulling the door shut behind her.

"That child…" [FN] grumbled.

"She's not a child," Solas countered. "Actually I just realized she never mentioned how old she is…" 

"Twenty-six," she said, heading toward the bedroom. "But she will always be my baby sister. My _meddlesome_ baby sister."

"At the moment, I'm grateful for her meddling, so I can't complain," he said as he followed. "It finally got us over the first hurdle." He was momentarily taken aback by the racks of swords along one wall - a far cry from the books that crowded her living room.

"She's not going to be here for all the hurdles after that," [FN] argued. "So you can't rely on her to save you."

"And what hurdles do you think I would need her for," he asked, moving closer to her.

"Everything. Our first kiss, our first ni-"

Solas dipped his head and silenced her with that first kiss, giving into the urges that had been shouting from within his own heart for months in the Dead Fade. It was a gentle, chaste thing, as tenuous as the relationship blossoming between them. Afterwards he pulled away, watching her face for signs of anger or displeasure.

Instead, [FN]'s arms looped around his neck and pulled him back down, their lips crashing together with the passion that imbued everything she did. They fought each other for control of that kiss, with teeth and tongue and roving hands, clinging to each other in hungry desperation until he tore his mouth from hers to breathe. 

_"Tel'melanan sul mar asa'ma'lines lasathe. Melanan telir sul mar,"_ he murmured into the space between their lips. _"Ane telir dir'vhen'an alas'en lasem em. Ane ir'fanor dara shem."_

_"Tel'ame dir'vhen'an. Ame-"_ Solas kissed her again, strangling whatever self-deprecating nonsense she was about to say as he revelled in the taste of her - the _feel_ of her in his arms. She tore her mouth away and scowled at him. "Regardless, we don't have time for this. I have to get packed, figure out what you're going to wear… did you buy your mundane clothes or did you magic them up?"

Solas laughed. "They're magic. Would you like me to 'magic up' whatever I'm supposed to wear for this?"

"It would be significantly easier," [FN] mumbled without leaving his embrace. "I'll have to pick some dresses to appease Andie, but I have nothing that will meet her satisfaction, and it's not like I can share hers." She let her head fall against his chest, the intimacy of the act - of her relying on him in such a small way - sending a sudden thrill into his heart. "Ugh, plus I need to check my armor and weapons, then we have to drive out there, set up camp, pay the site fee, feast fees, add my name to the lists…"

"How can I help, _Gaildahlas_?" he asked softly. 

She pulled herself from his arms and opened her closet, pulling out a large suitcase and placing it on her bed. "I'm going to grab a few books for you to look at for period-appropriate clothing. Make yourself some things and put them in here, while I pick a dress and prep my armor." 

[FN] vanished and returned a moment later with a few books on historical costuming that she dumped unceremoniously onto the bed beside him. Solas snatched up the first and skimmed it while she grabbed another box out of her closet. The clothing seemed to be similar to the fashions popular in Ferelden, simple breeches and tunics and long dresses given shape through binding, open-sided surcoats and beautiful embroidery. However, as he began to look at the later pages of the book, Ferelden gave way to Arlathan. Those in positions of power and wealth wore silk gowns cut close to the body, armor with filigree - it made him homesick, and suddenly desperate to see her dressed the same way.

He looked up to find her in front of her bedroom mirror, tightening the straps on a utilitarian steel gauntlet. Her reflections eyes met his, and she shrugged self-consciously. "My armor," she said by way of explanation.

"Yes," he agreed. "But where's the rest of it?" Standing, he approached her and tapped the back of her reinforced corset. "You're missing pauldrons, a proper cuirass, vambraces, greaves - I can keep going if you like."

She clicked her tongue. "Most of my opponents are men who easily have me beat when it comes to strength or reach. My only advantage is speed, and extra weight will only slow me down. So I wear the minimum amount of armor required."

"And if you are injured?" While their bond would grant her longevity to match his own, it would not grant either of them a reprieve from death in the face of a mortal injury. 

"I will bear it the same way I always have," she said absently, but he could hear the echo of the broken bones and bruises he had mended in the Fade in her voice. 

_"Vhen'an'ara…"_ he began, but she shook her head, so he changed tactics. "No one will treat you as a queen until you do, first."

"The only kind of queen I can be is a wicked one," she argued, then turned to her reflection with a sneer. "Mirror, Mirror, on the wall - who's the cruelest of them all?"

Solas snorted. "Certainly not you, _ara lath."_ Setting down the book he walked to her side, placing his hands on her shoulders. He was unsure what to do with the way she glared at herself in the mirror, with an intense hatred that made him skittish. Instead, he brushed her hair back from her face and pressed his lips to her cheek. "You are too kind to your sister, and care too much about the mortals of Thedas to be considered _cruel."_

"Funny when I spoke that spell, _you_ came into view, Mister 'Rend the Veil and Damn the Consequences.'" Her eyes were teasing and mischievous when they fell on Solas, and he shook his head.

"You need proper armor, if I am to allow you to fight."

_"Allow?"_ All humor vanished and she turned on him. "Let's get one thing straight - you do not 'allow' _shit._ I neither ask for," He took a step back as she advanced on him. "Nor require _your_ permission."

"That is not…" he sighed. "[FN]. I am not saying that you cannot do as you please. I would not dream of dictating to you, considering what we are to each other." He hooked the little finger of her right hand with his own, reminding her of the threads they bore in the Fade. "I just mean that I would worry far less if you were properly armored."

"You worry about me?" she asked, squeezing their tangled fingers as she looked away.

"I do," he said. "You're young, stubborn, reckless, and angry. You _burn_ with such intensity that I fear you will consume yourself with it if not given a proper outlet. I thank whatever true gods or spirits there may be that you were born into a world with a dead Fade, because if you had been born in Thedas I would have had to carve my way through countless spirits of Rage and Pride long before I even got to see your face."

"They would have made me Tranquil," she said.

That truth was bitter - yes, the Chantry _would_ have mutilated her. "And I would have killed them all for it," he said.

"You were already planning to."

Solas laughed. "Yes, but at the moment I am planning to alleviate as much suffering as I can. But you…" He pressed his forehead against hers. "You are my _vhen'an'ara._ One day, hopefully soon, you will be _'ma'haurasha -"_ She released his hands to wrap her arms around his neck as he spoke. "- and after I have brought you back to Thedas, you will be _ara'lan._ There are certain crimes I would be willing to overlook, but harming you is not one of them. If the Chantry made you Tranquil, I would burn it to the ground before the end."

[FN] must have detected some of his distress at the idea, because she brushed her lips across his cheek. "I would be willing to wear more armor, if it didn't increase the weight or hamper my mobility. But I don't have time to arrange that before the tournament." 

It was an offer of compromise, and he was grateful that she made it. "You are allowed to ask me for things, my love." 

She shook her head. "Not yet."

"Yes, yet," he countered, sliding his fingers into her hair and cupping her cheek in his palm. "I _want_ you to know you can rely on me."

"It feels like a cop out - asking my wizard boyfriend to snap his fingers and solve all my problems," she grumbled.

"I am not so naïve as to believe I can solve _all_ your problems," Solas chuckled. "Though I do appreciate the vote of confidence." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "I've told you before, I plan to bring you to Thedas to live there with me. You will have a whole host of new problems, not all of which I can even begin to predict, once we move back there. And those will probably be bigger issues that I cannot fix no matter how much magic I pour into them. But things like this? Some armor and some gowns? I -"

"I didn't ask for gowns!" [FN] objected.

"You didn't have to," he grinned at the slight blush that colored her cheeks. "Your life has had so little wonder in it, _vhen'an'ara,_ let me add some."

"I told you," she argued. "I'm not some princess in a fairy tale anymore. The time for wonder has passed."

"Who told you that lie?" 

"It's just -"

"Just what?" Solas asked. "You're so eager to divest yourself of any blessings you receive, my love. Is this what I'll spend the rest of time doing? Forcing you to see how wanted you are?"

"You only want me because I am your soulmate. You would be much happier if the cord was on someone younger and -"

"It _was,"_ he hissed. "Do you know how old you were when I followed the thread to this world the first time?" She blinked in confusion, but he continued. "You were a small child. Somewhere between six and ten. The second time I followed it, you were in your early twenties. That was the first time I spoke to you in your dreams, but you were not ready for me yet. It is only now - now that you have had time to decide for yourself who you are and what _you_ want - that you are someone I want to be with. So do not imply that I am asking for or accepting less. Whatever comes, we are supposed to face it together; I do not want an innocent child or an incompetent young woman at my side when things are at their worst."

[FN] licked her lips. "I will not help you kill them."

He didn't have to ask to whom she was referring. "And I will not ask you to."

"I will stop you," she said.

Solas laughed. "When the time comes, you are welcome to try. Until then, let me love you."

She rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. "Fine."

"What?" he asked, somewhat confused.

"I said, 'Fine.' I'm emotionally exhausted from telling myself I don't deserve this or there's been some mistake. Just remember, when you regret it, that you had every chance to walk away."

By the time Andie returned, the suitcase was mostly filled, so she and [FN] began loading things into the car while Solas conjured the last few items he would need in her bedroom, and tucked them in, along with the books she'd provided for reference. He would need them when he went to make her armor that night, after she'd demonstrated how she fought in the Fade.

Her younger sister kept giving them conspiratorial looks that quickly turned into smug grins when she noticed the way their hands touched every time they passed, and she became absolutely insufferable with self-satisfied giggles when she caught them kissing while [FN] packed a cooler for the trip.

They were on the road by three, with [FN] driving, Solas in the passenger seat, and Andie in the back, chuckling to herself and texting.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," she said curtly as they pulled onto the highway. "And I'll be happy to answer them on the way there, but if you make fun of us, I will deck you."

"I wouldn't dream of risking your ire, _vhen'an,"_ he replied. "Besides, I have gleaned a decent amount - it's some kind of… historical recreation party? With fighting. But near-Thedosian in theme and scope."

"Yes, but no magic," [FN] said, letting her eyes flick to him a moment before returning to the road. "It's part of a club Andie and I are in, called the SCA. It stands for the Society for Creative Anachronism."

* * *

"Also the Society for Consenting Adults," Andie said, waggling her eyebrows as Solas helped her set up her tent. "The parties can get a little wild, so you probably want to make sure you and [FN] are on the same page with that. She'll get really pissed if she catches you so much as looking at another girl."

"I am not interested in other women," he said simply, tugging the tent poles upright, while [FN] pulled more things out of the car and carried them toward her own camping spot right beside it. "I'm content to just be here with her."

"You know, I never asked how you two met, that first night," Andie laughed and knelt down, tying the tent's fabric to the poles to keep it taut. "I mean, strange men don't just show up outside a girl's apartment in Dragon Age cosplay. That'd be really weird."

Solas glanced over his shoulder and saw [FN] watching him, a look of utter amusement on her face. "It's a long story," he said, before mouthing the words _'Help me out, here!'_

He was so very grateful when she decided to have mercy. "Silas and I met in a costuming group. He was working on his cosplay, and I was looking for ideas for a new court gown. I just didn't expect him to drop by my apartment." [FN] smirked in his direction before turning to her sister. "I have to go put my name in the lists, and pay our site fees. Think you can hold down the fort till I get back? We can go grab dinner after."

"Yeah, I'll make him help me set up your tent," Andie replied. "What do you want us to do if…" she bit her lip and looked around.

"They probably won't show up, but if they do, ignore them. They are my problem, not yours." [FN] said. "I'll have my cell so worst case scenario you can call me and I'll head back." She turned to Solas and pulled him close, favoring him with a kiss before she whispered in his ear, "If anything happens to my sister I will hold you personally responsible."

"I will protect her with my life, _vhen'an,"_ he replied, then pressed his lips to her cheek. "Now go run your errands. The sooner you leave the sooner I can hold you again."

She lingered just a moment more beside him before she pulled away, vanishing between the trees as she followed the path away from the campsites. "Come on," Andie said, pulling his attention away from the last place he had seen her. 

The two of them busied about setting up [FN]'s tent when a man who reminded Solas of Hawke - strong jaw, dark hair, overly muscled - appeared, striding purposefully toward their camp. Andie saw him and shifted so Solas was between them. "That's Brandon," she whispered.

"Who is Brandon?" he whispered back, but she was already scuttling away to see to the tent.

"Andie." This Brandon's voice was clipped. "Is [FN] around? I need to talk to her."

Solas shifted his weight from one foot to the other, making sure he was pointedly in the man's path. "She has stepped away to see to some matters. Did you need something?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Brandon asked, finally meeting his gaze.

"Does it matter? We are here to discuss your business, not mine."

Brandon gave Solas a level look. "I need to discuss the tournament with [FN]."

"She's putting her name in now," Andie piped up. "But you won't talk her out of it."

"I just don't think it would be appropriate for her to compete against me, all things considered," he said. 

Solas snorted. "And why not?"

"If I'm crowning her Queen, there's no need for -"

"She'll never accept a crown she didn't win for herself," Andie snapped. "How many times does she have to tell you that?"

"She won't publicly reject me if I -"

"Don't push your luck," she sighed. "Look, you should really be talking to [FN] about this. Not us."

"Then tell me who this guy is," he ordered, jerking his chin toward Solas. "You finally found yourself a boyfriend?"

Anxiety traced Andie's face, so Solas stepped in more firmly. "I am [FN]'s paramour. Not hers."

That had, apparently, been the wrong thing to say. 

Brandon's face darkened and he stormed forward, his eyes fixed on Andie, but Solas interjected himself between them again. "I will thank you for leaving her alone," he said. 

"Fuck off," the man near-shouted in his face, before he looked at Andie over Solas's shoulder. "Your sister couldn't even give me a fucking chance?"

"You are not entitled to her," Solas said, then smirked. "Not like you had a chance in the first place."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

He spread out his hands, shrugging innocently. "I've known [FN] for some time, and she's never even _mentioned_ you."

The fist connecting with his jaw was no surprise, but [FN]'s barked, _"Enough!"_ certainly was.

Both men looked towards the forest path as she stormed toward them, pushing past Brandon to Solas's side. She took his chin in one hand before he could object, twisting his face to look at the place where Brandon's fist had connected. After a moment, she released him. 

"So quick to throw fists when you don't get your way," Solas began, but [FN] gave him a murderous look that silenced the rest of his barbs. 

"Care to tell me why you just decked my boyfriend, Collins?" she asked as she turned to Brandon.

"He was talking shit," Brandon said, flexing his fist.

[FN]'s tone was unimpressed. "He does that. A lot. Doesn't mean hitting him is the answer."

"Why are you competing? Why is he here? You're supposed to be on my arm." 

"What gave you that idea?" she hissed. "I thought I made myself clear - I'm not interested."

"Someone has to keep an eye on you, now that you put Sam in prison." Brandon's tone was sharp. "We leave you to your own devices for a few months, and you show up with a _blanket bunny?"_

Solas felt it then, the press of the Fade, like the whole world was taking a breath. [FN]'s hand opened at her side, lightning sparking between her fingers until he reached across and clutched her arm. "[FN], don't waste your energy here. You can give him what for in the tournament tomorrow."

Brandon snorted. "If she even lasts long enough to face me."

"You had better hope you're knocked out early," [FN] said. "Because I will not hold back when it comes to fighting you."

"You're going to get yourself _killed,"_ he argued, scowling at Solas. "And then who will be here to protect your precious pet… or your sister?"

"Okay, Brandon," Andie said. "You made your point. Kindly fuck off before I call the event coordinators. I'm sure they'd love to hear about you threatening a competitor's loved ones the night before the tournament."

* * *

The three of them sat in a small booth at the diner, picking at their food. No one had said much of anything after Brandon left their camp, but Solas had noticed [FN] seemed to clutch his hand a little tighter than she had before, and something had clouded Andie's usually sunny moods. 

"So," he finally said after [FN] had rolled the same tomato around her plate the third time. "Who exactly _is_ Brandon?"

Andie winced while his _vhen'an_ set her jaw and said, "An asshole. He is my ex-husband's best friend. Well, _was,_ before I had that bastard sent to prison."

Solas caught Andie's eye across the table, but she just squeaked and shook her head. "I always figured it was your story to tell, sis, if you hadn't already."

[FN] sighed. "I'll keep it simple. My second husband and I met at an SCA event ages ago. I was competing in a tournament - not a crown tournament, just a regular one. The guy I was facing had a problem with the fact that I was a woman with a white belt, and broke my leg. He got disqualified and punished, and my ex, Sam, was the guy who carried me off the field and went with me to the hospital."

She stabbed the tomato with force and a vicious glare. "Things were fine until Sam and I got married. He assumed once I was _'his,'"_ [FN] said with disgust, "that I would stop being my own person and become his accessory. That my career, my goals, my ambitions… they would all be forgotten in pursuit of his own. No where was that more apparent than in the SCA, where he expected me to stop competing in the tournaments and sit back stitching new costumes for him. It only got worse when we moved out here."

The two sisters laughed at the idea before she continued. "Things came to a head just before the crown tournament a year and a half ago. I told him I was going to put my name in the lists, and he tried to forbid me from doing so. When I told him to shove it up his ass, he beat me bad enough that I was in the hospital for over a week."

Though Solas made a point of keeping his face blank, under the table he dug his fingers into his thigh. It was no wonder she kept him at arm's length; no wonder she was reticent to trust him, if her previous lover had harmed her so. 

"The cops got involved, of course, and I pressed charges. He got out on bail, and to my surprise, Brandon offered to let me stay with him. Nothing happened between us then, but he made it really obvious that he _wanted_ something to happen. I told him to give me time." She laughed. "He didn't like that, but accepted it. Then Sam was found guilty and sentenced to five years in prison, I got healed up, and started training to rebuild my strength for this tournament."

"Brandon, though, didn't want her to compete," Andie supplied, taking over while [FN] ate a little more. "Normally, when someone wins the tournament, they name someone else as their consort, and they rule together. Brandon wants to name [FN] his consort."

"Consort doesn't _have_ to have sexual connotations," [FN] added. "Most people who are single name a good friend or relative. One guy even named his mother, because she had been in the SCA for years and would be a good co-ruler."

"It just has to be someone you can work with for a year."

"A year?" Solas asked.

"Yeah, six months as Princess, six months as Queen." [FN] took a sip of her soda. "Then you're done, until you choose to participate in another crown tournament."

"So just to be sure I understand," Solas said. "Brandon wishes to take you as a consort in the sexual sense, and thus does not want you to participate in the tournament so that he can name you thus should he emerge victorious." [FN] nodded, so he continued. "But that is the very thing that led to the breakdown of your relationship with your previous husband."

"Basically," she said.

"Hmm, you have given me much to consider, _vhen'an'ara."_ He drummed his fingers on the table. "I suppose this is why you have been so adamant you will not accept a crown you have not earned for yourself."

"Yes." [FN]'s voice had the grim finality of a royal edict, for all that she had no crown _yet._ "Now, I just have to participate and hope I win."

Andie scowled. "You have to stop talking about hoping, and wishing, and trying. You _will_ win, [FN]. I just think you'd believe it more if you could see yourself as a Queen." She ate a french fry, then asked, "What dress did you pick, anyway?"

[FN] opened her mouth to reply, but Solas cut her off. "I gifted her one."

Her sister's eyes widened in excitement and she rounded on [FN]. "He _what!?_ Why didn't you tell me? Can I see it? Oh my god what is it like! Tell me!" 

"No," [FN] said, shaking her head. "I know how you get. I want you to be as surprised as everyone else tomorrow. Especially because he's also given me a new set of armor."

Under the table, their hands clutched just a little tighter.

* * *

Lying down beside her to sleep had been so different from their usual sojourns into the Fade. He had not spent a proper night with her before, and there was something strangely intimate in watching her prepare for bed - those nightly rituals that were so rarely shared with others. Even more enticing than watching her remove those physical items that constituted her daily armor was the way she divested herself of her emotional armor; he was intoxicated by the feeling of her body pressed against his in the darkness of the tent as the tension bled out of her body and she curled against him. It was only once he was sure she was asleep that he allowed himself to slip out of her world and back into the Fade.

He found her there, pacing irritably, as was her way when she was tense. _"Arasha."_

[FN] looked up. "Solas."

_"Ame min,"_ he said, climbing down from his usual perch on one of the stone walls to her side, giving the lyrium trees a wide berth. They hummed with her anxiety tonight. _"Nuvenan itha thu diras."_

_"Nuvenan dar'misaan i banalla,"_ she replied, picking up a stick and giving it a few testing swipes. 

Chuckling, he said, _"Ajuas dar'misaan aron ajuas sastrahn. Eolasa ra, itha ra, vunlana ra."_ As if by way of example, he summoned a staff to his hand. _"Nea mar banalla."_

_"Sul'emas mar dirth'vhen'an tel'judiras em,"_ she said.

_"I tel'judiran na. Sul'aman ara'lin."_ He leaned down and pressed his lips to her hair, pleased with the smile she gave him. _"Mar dar'misaan?"_

She bit her lip and kept silent as she focused, and on her third try, an ephemeral longsword woven of the Fade itself sprang into existence in her hand and she laughed. _"Dyir?"_

_ "Dyir." _

His _vhen'an_ had said speed was her advantage, but he had not realized how true that was until she moved towards him at breathtaking speed, forcing him to speed himself with magic to move his staff in time. Though Inquisitor Trevelyan had been far stronger, Solas had to face the fact that she _was_ human - each strike was more powerful than anything his sword-arm could muster. His only advantage in this fight was his familiarity with magic, and he used that to keep himself moving, and to keep a barrier up for the blows that inevitably made it through his guard.

Through it all he observed her, the way she moved, and tried to find the source of his _deja vu_ before it struck him - most literally, as she had distracted him by summoning veilfire in her off-hand before bringing her sword around with the other, knocking him to the ground.

Solas laughed, staring up at the blackened sky through the softly singing lyrium branches. _"Ahnsul tel'dirthas un'eolasas Dirth'ena Enasalin?"_

The sword vanished from her grasp and she reached down, helping him to his feet. _"Tel'un'av'ahnas."_

_"Ehn ghi'lem na?"_ he asked as he pulled her into his arms.

_"Ghil'an ara'lan,"_ she replied, dropping her head to his chest.

[FN] truly was his soulmate - someone intended to be his equal in all things - if she had managed to teach herself the lost art of the Arcane Warriors purely through willpower, and Solas couldn't help but laugh into the kisses he pressed into her mouth before he brushed her hair from her face and whispered, _"Ar lath ma."_


	4. Victory or Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up between Solas and [FN] during the tournament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was already long enough so you guys will get the smut in the next chapter. ;)

If it was not for the cell phone weighing down his pocket, Solas would have sworn he was at a tourney in Ferelden. 

The wooden stands were thronged with spectators, dressed like an assortment of citizens of Denerim, but here and there he could see golds, silks, and silvers. Thankfully, he did not have to join the crowd, as [FN] had spoken with the current King and Queen - friends of hers, apparently - who had extended an invitation for he and Andie to enjoy the view from the royal pavilion. 

These matches seemed simple enough affairs, men with staves - his beloved had called them "marshals" - circling the combatants both to ensure the matches were fair, and that stray blows did not hit spectators. Brandon, the apoplectic man from the night before, took the field and made a brutal showing, easily besting the opponents in the first round. 

"How are you liking the tournament, Silas?" Queen Catalina asked, smiling up at him where he leaned against one of the pavilion's supports while the fighters prepared for the next bout. 

"Well enough, your Majesty," he bowed his head in deference. Though the woman held no real political power, this game of _nuvi'sulenal_ they played had certain parts, as much as any Orlesian theatrical production. "I have only seen [FN] - forgive me, _Elspeth_ \- fight. It is edifying to observe others." She had warned him that many of them took fake names as part of the roles they played; Elspeth was hers. He felt like Silas was enough of a pseudonym to fuss with.

The king laughed. "Mayhaps we'll make a fighter of you yet!"

"I would not wish to risk myself against an arm as powerful as yours, your Majesty," he replied diplomatically. [FN] had been worried he would mock her for this, but looking on this king and queen, the people in the stands, it just made him despondent. Her whole world yearned and dreamed for something it had never known - a Fade which would give them wonder and magic; he would not begrudge them what little of it they could snatch.

"Ooh! Elspeth's up next," Andie, who answered to 'Ariadne' here, replied. She was sitting at the monarchs' feet, playing with their son, David. 

Sure enough, one of the heralds stepped forward and called "Sir Alfred and Lady Elspeth!"

The man who took the field was older, the hair and beard peeking from beneath his helmet a soft grey streaked with hairs that had given up and gone snowy-white. His armor was much like [FN]'s had been yesterday, functionable, but hardly beautiful. 

Then the woman herself took the field, and it was difficult for Solas to conceal his own delight at the way she caught the crowd in rapt attention.

"Holy _shit,_ Silas," Andie whispered, belated clapping her hands over David's ears at the queen's hissed "Lady Ariadne!"

The silverite armor he had crafted nearly glowed beneath the morning sun, polished to a high shine and reflecting the deep blue of the sky as well as the brown of the field along the sweeping lines of filigree common to Ancient Arlathan. Beneath it was a layer of black brocade, embroidered with red and fluttering in the same breeze that pulled her hair from the braids Andie had put it in that morning. The only obvious sop to his own vanity [FN] had permitted was the shield she bore, strapped to her left arm - it bore the visage of a black wolf with three pairs of red eyes; a warning to all that would stand against her that they did not just face her, but Fen'harel as well. 

Her sword and white belt were discordant notes, one he intended to fix once he had her in Thedas - on this she would not be swayed. The blade was a fat, padded thing of foam and duct tape, but she still moved it with all the experience and reverence of a true blade; the belt was a simple woven braid of silk rope.

The herald turned to the king, who motioned for him to go ahead as whispers broke out in the crowd. He turned back, making eye contact with this Sir Alfred and [FN]. "Do honor to the crown!" 

Both of them turned towards the King and Queen, lifting their swords before their faces as they bowed.

"Do honor to the one who inspires you today!"

Sir Alfred turned and bowed to an older woman in the crowd, probably his wife, who blew him a kiss and cheered for him, while [FN] bowed again towards the royal box, this time grinning at Andie, who put one hand over David's eyes while the other gave her sister a gesture that seemed more like something Sera would do. Under his breath, King Roger chuckled and glanced at his wife. "Do you think she'll pull it off?"

"If anyone can, it's her," the queen replied, her eyes tight on [FN].

"Do honor to your most noble and worthy opponent!" 

They bowed to each other, politely, and he saw the smile that passed between them was full of friendly affection. As if sensing his question before he asked, it, Queen Catalina glanced up at Solas. "My father, Sir Alfred, is the one [FN] squired to before she became a knight. He is the one who gifted her the white belt when she earned the title."

He wanted to ask more, about who [FN] had been before, but the herald's voice cut through his thoughts. "Pay heed the marshals!"

The three men approached, nodding to the two opponents before one of them yelled, "Lay on!" and all _friendly affection_ vanished.

[FN] immediately dropped into a crouch, coiling all the power into her legs and lifted her sword and shield up to block before tumbling under Alfred's attempted strike and coming up to her feet behind him. She turned like a dancer, her sword arm the gentleman leading her through the spin as she brought her blade around to the side of his head, only to be blocked at the last moment by his blade.

Not to be deterred, she put more strength into her arm and continued moving her feet, using his own force to propel herself through the rest of the pirouette until she faced him again, sword at the ready.

"Not bad, girl," Alfred said, his voice rough with age and humor. 

"What can I say?" she replied, shifting into a guard. "I learned from the best."

They traded a few blows, and Solas's grip on his walking staff tightened as he watched her fight. He'd been too focused on keeping himself defended against her the night before, he'd had no chance to appreciate her in a more… _sexual_ sense. His _vhen'an'ara_ moved with feline grace, no wasted energy in every shift of her body as she both countered the older man's blows and offered a few of her own. 

Alfred lunged toward her, swinging his sword toward her head and she took a half-step back, leaning her torso away from his swipe while her arms dropped to her sides, giving him an uninterrupted view of the curves of her profile. Solas let his eyes race over every inch and he was forced to bite his lip near to bleeding against a groan of abject longing. On the field, the corner of her mouth curled up when the old man murmured something to her, and she whispered something back.

Abruptly she lunged forward, switching into a duelist's stance at the same time he did, and they moved like lightning, back and forth across the field as the marshals called the hits. The energy of the fight had switched from a true contest to a friendly spar, and they both laughed, exchanging personal jokes between the blows.

"Well," Alfred drawled, just barely loud enough for Solas to hear. "You think you're ready?"

"I'm certainly not getting any younger," [FN] replied. "Besides, don't you want to retire to drinking and bragging about how you trained the queen?"

"If only I had something left to teach you." Lord Alfred stepped back and took a knee, lifting his voice so everyone could hear. "I concede to Lady Elspeth."

The nearest marshal nodded, so [FN] offered her hand. "I accept your concession, old friend." She helped him to his feet and pulled his arm over her shoulder, letting him lean on her as she led him to the royal pavilion. They bowed to the king and queen, then continued forward, Catalina reaching for her father's face.

"You all right, old man?" she asked. 

"Just a touch winded. Girl's gotten faster."

[FN] and Catalina's eyes met over his head while he wheezed and ruffled his grandson's hair. "Silas, would you…?" The question hung in the air, unfinished, and Catalina's eyebrows shot up. The surprised reaction made him realize she was asking him for something - _publicly_ asking him for something; that was something [FN] did not do. 

He moved forward, offering a hand to Alfred, even as his mind fit the rest of the pieces together. In her world he was a _physician,_ and this was an older man, far past his prime, who had just done something overly taxing. "Hello, Sir Alfred," he said. "I'm Dr. Fennarel. Her majesty seems concerned, do you mind if I took a look at you?"

Thankfully, he was relatively fine - a touch of magical healing while Solas pretended to examine him fixed a small heart issue that could have led to something fatal in a few years - and he accepted the suggestion of sitting in the royal pavilion to watch the rest of the matches. As soon as Alfred was settled, [FN] came to his side and clutched his hand. "I need to borrow you for a moment, Silas."

Her voice was tight, and he nodded. "Of course, my dear."

Without another word she tugged him with her through the back of the tent into the edge of the forest; it was three steps before he had her pinned against a tree. Another heartbeat and he was kissing her, swallowing her panting sighs until she tore her mouth away to breath. 

Solas hovered close, brushing the shell of her ear affectionately with the tip of his nose as he whispered, _"Mar rodhe ir'on."_

_"Isalan hima sa i'na,"_ she gasped as she put her arms around his neck and pulled him down for another round.

_"Isalan pala na."_ His fingers found the latches on her armor.

_"Ema 'ma dhula i pala em."_ She arched off the tree against him and he caught her in his grip, pressing their bodies together everywhere he could.

_"Jutuan ma ir rosas'da'din, ma tel'aman melin."_ Her gorget came loose, exposing the curve of her neck to his mouth.

_ "Vera -" _

"Lady Elspeth?" a voice called, and she swore under her breath, pulling away from him while he quietly handed her the gorget. She snapped it back on as they walked back to the tent, and he smirked at the way her braids swung behind her, emphasizing the swing of her hips as she walked before he called to her, and offered the pins he'd pulled from her hair back.

_"Ane elvar'nas,"_ she hissed, but her smile was wide, and she pressed her lips against his before taking her sword and heading back to the field.

* * *

"So, a doctor, are you?" Alfred asked, drinking some water the queen pressed into his hand. "Where did our Elspeth dig you up?"

"Costuming website," Andie answered helpfully, parroting the response [FN] had given her yesterday.

"Costuming?" the older man gave him an appraising look.

"Stitching wounds and stitching fabric isn't as different as one would think," Solas offered, and that made Alfred laugh.

"Well, if you've the nerve to stand _beside_ her, you've more courage than half these fools," he gestured toward the crowd, but Solas heard the subtle emphasis.

"Yes, I met this Brandon fellow last night."

Alfred scowled. "Sir Bryant - damn the man. Thinks himself worthy of the crown because God blessed him with a sword arm."

"I have known many men like that in my time," Solas agreed. "Too often they are given the chance to put lie to that sentiment."

"You know she's not going to crown you consort, yes?" Alfred asked. "Don't want a scene or anything at the coronation."

"I'm well aware," he laughed. "She has told me a consort is required, but not whom she has chosen. I do not require public validation to know she is mine." Solas smirked at the memory of her gasps against the tree just a few minutes ago - he didn't need anyone else's acknowledgement at all.

"Sir Hjelmstad and Lady Elspeth!" the herald called, and they went through the same ritual greetings as they had before, though her new opponent was far less respectful in offering his obeisance than Alfred had been. 

The tension in the royal pavilion increased as soon as the marshals took the field, leading Solas to look to the others for explanation. "Hjelmstad is one of Bryant's friends," Catalina murmured. "Ergo friends with her ex-husband." 

He returned his attention to [FN], and he could detect the wariness in every line of her body. Rather than her initial brashness she had displayed against her mentor, she remained still, sword and shield slightly raised in readiness, watching Hjelmstad. 

An unseen signal passed between the fighters, and with a cry, the large man barrelled toward her. [FN] pivoted out of the way, keeping her shield up as she took a few steps back, putting more space between them, but her opponent was not to be deterred. Hjelmstad whirled on her, shield forward, and rushed her again. She went to turn out of his path but he anticipated her, bringing his sword in low and catching her across the stomach with a solid blow that sent her sailing across the field before she tumbled into the dirt and grass, pulling a cry from the spectators, and a "Hit!" from one of the marshals.

[FN] was on her feet almost immediately, a grass stain smeared along one cheek, just in time to duck under the swing of Hjelmstad's next charge and bring her blade around to the back of his leg. 

A marshal called, "Hit!" but Hjelmstad rounded on him. 

"It's not a _fucking_ hit! I didn't even feel it!"

"The whole field heard it," [FN] snapped before she spat into the dirt. "Ready to keep going?"

"Shut the fuck up, [LN]," he replied, lifting his sword. "It's about damn time you learned your place."

Her smile was cruel as they started circling each other. "My place is on that throne," [FN] said, her voice light and taunting as she turned her sword in her hand. "And yours is on bended knee before me."

Hjelmstad opened his mouth to retort but she charged, catching his blow on her shield and using the force to lever herself upward, allowing her own swing to slam into the side of his helmet, making it ring like a gong before she fell to the ground behind him. 

"Hit!" A martial shouted again, and the bear of a man turned, bringing his sword down in an overhead strike at [FN] while she was still prone on the ground. It slammed into her shoulders as she tried to roll away, and Solas gasped to see the way her body buckled despite the armor, internally cursing himself for accepting her choice to not have it magically warded as well.

"It's tied," the king said, shifting eagerly in his seat. "Next hit determines the victor."

The man raised his sword again while [FN] was still down but she rocked her legs up and back down with force, popping up onto her feet as she moved away from him. Hjelmstad pointed at her with his sword. "This ends now, bitch."

She mimicked his stance, eyes narrowed. "You're goddamn right it does." He settled back into a defensive stance, but [FN] didn't, instead rushing him with quick, light steps, sword held high as if she planned a high strike across Hjelmstad's helm. He brought both sword and shield up, shield to block her blow and sword to deliver one of his own; [FN]'s shield moved to block his sword, and at the last moment, she span the sword in her grasp, catching it in a backwards hold so the blade ran along her forearm just as she slammed that arm with the full force of her forward momentum - sword and all - into his chest.

"Hit!" the marshal announced, and the crowd erupted in cheers, jumping to their feet as [FN] turned to face Solas, giving him a mischievous grin. Because of this, she didn't see Hjelmstad's blade as he brought it around towards her head despite the match being over. Her only warning was the sudden alarm on Solas's face, and he could do nothing but watch as the padded weapon slammed into her helm. Even then, she didn't hesitate, her arm snapping up and locking around the weapon as she was batted across the field again like a children's toy; that action put too much strain on the duct tape and it tore, going with [FN] and the foam padding and exposing the frame his sword was built around. 

Andie's voice screaming "He fucking _cored_ it!" pulled Solas from where he was frozen in shock and he took a step forward, but King Roger held out a hand to stop him.

"She has to walk off the field under her own power to stay in the tournament," he said. "You can tend her the moment she steps off it."

The marshals were already muscling Hjelmstad off the field, their shouting the only sound as the rest of the crowd watched [FN] in breathless silence. True to form, she did not cry out - not even when she coughed blood onto the ground beneath her as she pushed herself to her feet. 

"[FN]!" Brandon called from across the field. "Are you all right?" 

She wavered slightly in place and looked towards Brandon before her head snapped back around toward the pavilion and she made eye contact with Solas. "One foot in front of the other, _vhen'an,"_ he whispered to her, willing her to come to him. 

Step by step, she did, sagging in Solas's arms the moment she was officially off the field, ignoring the cheers that had erupted from the crowd who were rejoicing that she could still compete. 

"Let me examine you," he said, lowering her to an empty seat. Her hands came up, tugging her helmet off while he knelt in front of her.

_"Tel'ladana em,"_ she commanded, barely more audible than her panting breaths. 

_"Tel'ahnsul?"_ he replied, taking the moistened napkin the queen offered and wiping the blood from his lover's face.

[FN]'s hand gripped his arm tightly. _"Veran nadas ena'sal'in sul'ara'lan."_ She clenched her jaw against a wince when he wiped idly at her temple. _"Ju'ladanas em my."_

He murmured disapprovingly but did not argue further, especially not once Alfred mumbled. "Medic's here." She nodded and stood, Solas standing with her for fear she might tip over.

"I've already examined her," he said as the woman in the orange vest approached. 

"You a doctor?" she snapped.

"Yes." Solas offered his hand by way of greeting. "Dr. Silas Fennarel."

"He works with me," Andie supplied helpfully.

"Well… let me take a quick look, at least," the medic said dubiously, turning to [FN]. "For liability purposes."

"Of course." [FN]'s voice was cool and calm, and the woman pulled out a small pen light, shining it in his _vhen'an'ara's_ eyes. 

"No concussion, she's speaking normally, and can stand." The medic relaxed, tucking her light away. "We're breaking for lunch now while the marshals investigate Hjelmstrad's gear. Think you'll be up for another fight in an hour or so?"

"Yeah. I just want to go back to my tent and examine my armor, make sure it doesn't need any repairs."

The medic nodded to Solas. "You mind keeping an eye on her?"

"Not at all," he said, his eyes snapping to Andie. "Do you mind coming to get us when it's almost time for her next bout?"

"Sure."

* * *

By the end of the walk back, [FN] was in his arms, curled against his chest as he carried her into her tent. Though she made no noise and feigned simple exhaustion, he could feel the pain through the tension in her muscles, the sweat beading on her brow, and the way her fingers twisted in his shirt.

_"Nuvenan ladana ma,"_ he said, reaching for the latches on her armor.

_"Din."_ Her voice was sharp, but she still helped him take her armor off; she set each piece on a small card table to be examined. _"Isan."_

Solas lifted the wool-lined silk gambeson, scowling at the bruises purpling across her torso. _"Ahn nuvenas ava?"_

She hissed as his fingers traced a particularly nasty bruise at her ribs. _"Sulrahn elvyr."_

His hands moved to her temple, and [FN] looked away as he brushed her hair back to examine the bruise more closely. It was near-black at the center, and at this angle, with her gaze away, he could see a few of the blood vessels were broken on her eye itself. She would heal on her own, but it would take a week or two. _"Ju'dalan ish."_

_"Din,"_ she repeated, harder this time, and twisted away from his touch. [FN] moved to a small basket in the corner and took out a small wedge of cheese. _"Tel'nuvenan na dala esh'ala."_

_ "Ju'dalan esh'ala, thuast." _

_"Tel'neran ra."_ She shoved the cheese in her mouth then approached the armor, wiping down each piece with disposable wipes that stank of bleach. 

_"Ir Abelas,"_ he offered, placing his hands on her shoulders. 

[FN] didn't respond, but sighed irritably around the cheese while she worked. He quietly followed behind, brushing his fingers over the armor to clear away scratches and cracks with a touch of magic. After a few moments of silence, he smiled slightly. _"Un'ane ina'lan'ehn min dhea."_

She grinned. _"Un'ithan ma ithal."_

Solas snatched her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss into her palm before he said, _"Isalan mor o itha."_ He tugged her closer. _"Thuast, nuvenan ladana ma sael."_

Her kiss was soft yet strong, pulling him in despite himself until he groaned for want of her. That groan turned to one of frustration when he heard Andie shouting, "[FN]? Silas? Are you decent?" from outside.

_"Min'nydha,"_ she whispered into his lips. _"My sul'ava math."_

_"Min'nydha,"_ he agreed, kissing her once more before she called out to her sister.

* * *

"After an investigation by Corporate," King Roger announced to the reassembled crowds, "it has been found that Mark Harrington, also known as 'Sir Latham Hjelmstad,' has used an unapproved material as the core of his sword in direct violation of the safety regulations of the tournament. As such, he has been disqualified from the tournament, and is suspended from heavy fighting activities within the SCA for the next year."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd before he continued. "[FN] [LN], also known as 'Lady Elspeth MacGregor,' has been examined by the medics and found to still be capable of participation in the tournament. She has also said she intends to continue competing. Brandon Collins, also known as 'Sir Tomos Bryant,' has graciously conceded his bye in this round to her so that she might have a bit longer to recuperate before the final match, and thus will be fighting Sir Desmarais in her stead."

It was [FN]'s turn to grumble, and she did so by Solas's side in the royal pavilion. She had not wanted to accept Brandon's bye, but the medics insisted. Then _he_ had insisted that she eat something more than a piece of cheese while she sat beside him to watch the match. That hadn't improved her mood, but she did lean against him affectionately while she ate the item Andie had shoved into her hand, which both women called a 'burrito.' What surprised him most was young David, the King and Queen's son, climbing into [FN]'s lap and calling her "Aunt." 

"Are you related?" he asked in confusion. "I didn't know -"

"No," she laughed. "Catalina and I have been friends for years though, so the title is emotional if not literal."

As Brandon walked off the field victorious, [FN] shoved the second half of her burrito into David's hands. "Here, kid. It's spicy so don't tell your mom."

"I heard that," Catalina snapped, but she made no move to take it from him. 

[FN] picked up her helmet and stood, then glanced down at Solas. "Kiss for luck?"

He grinned and pushed himself to his feet. _"On Ghilanas, vhen'an."_ He pressed his lips to hers reverently for a moment, and then she turned from him, sliding the helmet down over her braided hair.

Brandon crossed the field to her almost immediately. "Concede the match, [FN]. I saw how badly Mark beat you; you shouldn't be fighting."

"Medics cleared me," she countered.

"The medics only care about corporate liability," he argued. "You could be seriously hurt. I love you too much to let that happen."

"You don't love me." She sighed heavily. "You love the idea of me. You -"

"Just concede the match. You want to be queen? Fine. Concede and I'll name you my consort. I'll -"

"No. You will not give or name me _anything,"_ [FN]'s voice was sharp. "I will be queen by my own hand - by my _own_ works - or not at all." Her words rang with an old hurt Solas did not know when she said, "Anything _given_ can be taken away."

"[FN], I just -"

Her temper snapped. "Shut the fuck up and raise your sword, Collins. I'm not interested." With that, she walked to the center of the field where the herald and marshals waited. 

Brandon looked back towards Solas and Andie, who had come to his side during the exchange. "One of you should talk some goddamn sense into her."

"I don't think Aunt [FN] likes you," David supplied helpfully, leaning on Andie's legs.

Solas couldn't help but chuckle, and Brandon scowled at them before he followed after [FN].

As the two combatants made their obeisances, Solas took a seat beside Alfred again. His wife, who answered to Cwenhild (but Alfred indicated her real name was "Cathy"), had come to sit with them, and she fussed over her husband idly. "You shouldn't have fought."

"Come on, Cwen, you should let an old man have a little fun," Alfred fussed. "Besides, she went easy on me."

"Did she?" Solas asked. "You seemed to be holding your own quite well against her."

The old man laughed. "I take it you're not one for fighting?"

"I'm more of a strategist. A fair hand at chess, that sort of thing. If this world had magic, I'd be a mage, I think." Solas chuckled at his own joke.

Alfred nodded. "That's good. If she wins, she'll be leading the kingdom's armies at the war. She'll need a strategist by her side."

"The war?" he felt his brows come together.

Cwenhild nodded happily. "Yes, the Coronation War. It's an annual battle, all the knights and fighters from both this kingdom and our neighbors turn out, led by their respective monarchs the day after their coronations, for a massive battle. The exact location changes every year so strategies can't become entrenched."

"It's quite the showing," Alfred interjected, "and -"

"Lay on!" The marshals command tore the three of them from their conversation just in time to see both Brandon and [FN] crouch into defensive stances. She took a few steps forward, prowling like a cat toward him, but he did not move.

"He knows," Solas whispered. "He knows how she fights."

"Yep," Alfred agreed. "She's not going to be able to goad him into wasting energy giving her an advantage. She'll have to prove herself the superior fighter directly, or trick him into giving her an advantage."

A twig snapped, somewhere in the distance, and it was the shot that started the fight in earnest. Both fighters burst into a flurry of motion, their swords and shields meeting again and again in the air between them with a rapid _tak tak tak ta-tak_ that reminded Solas of striding through the grounds of _Tarasyl'an Te'las_ while Cassandra and the Inquisitor sparred. 

Brandon pressed her, and she slowly ceded ground until at last she was at one end of the field, near pinned between him and the fence.

"Come on, Elspeth," the king growled. "You're better than this."

"She's toying with him," Andie breathed. "She's making him choose."

"Choose what?" King Roger asked.

It was Solas who answered. "Whether or not he will strike her. Whether he wants her or the crown."

The queen made a hum of understanding in the back of her throat. 

"That girl has never made it easy for the men that want her," Alfred chuckled.

"To be fair," Andie argued, "They never made it easy for her." Her eyes flicked to Solas, and he wasn't sure if it was an appraisal or a warning. He decided silence was the better part of valor.

His choice made, Brandon brought his sword down into [FN]'s side at last, striking her along her ribs in the same place Hjelmstad had. Solas was on his feet, remembering the bruise he had touched beneath her gambeson, but her face didn't even flicker. 

"Hit!" the marshal called, and he raised his sword again, but [FN] took the opportunity to duck under his arm and turn to face him, something triumphant on her face as she levelled her sword at him.

Brandon's sword came up and he knocked her sword aside, but she followed the energy of it, letting her whole body sink into a lunge and bring her blade around into the opening his strike created and her sword slammed into his side. The marshal called out, "Hit!"

He brought his sword down toward her head and her shield arm snapped up to block it, leading them to trade a few more blows as Solas felt that familiar presence from the night before; the Dead Fade pressing in against them. To his surprise, Andie began to fidget, and he wondered if the talent for magic was somehow hereditary in this world, too. Did her sister feel it?

On the field, [FN]'s hand behind her shield flickered and he saw the sparks. _"Tel…"_ Solas whispered, though she could not hear him from this distance. While he had no qualms with her laying the man low with magic, he did not think she wanted to win through a method her compatriots would probably consider cheating. 

She squeezed her hand into a fist and took a swing toward his face - Brandon brought his sword up to knock her arm aside but she turned instead, her sword hitting his hip with a solid sound. "Hit!" the marshal announced.

"One more hit and she's got it," Alfred breathed, leaning forward in his seat to watch.

Her opponent was not to be outdone. He bore down on her, each swing harder than the last, and though she parried and blocked them, Solas could tell her movements weren't as quick and sure as they were this morning, before the fight with Hjelmstad. [FN]'s shoulders rose and fell with labored breaths, and he internally cursed himself. He should have healed her. She shouldn't be fighting in her condition, and now she faced her most difficult opponent of the day.

Brandon must have seen it, too, because he feinted a few blows before catching her again in the bruise along her ribs - utilizing her injuries from the previous bout had to be intentional, and Solas hated him for it as [FN] tumbled to the ground. He took a few steps back from her while the marshal called the hit.

"Concede, [FN]," Brandon said. "You're going to kill yourself if you keep going like this."

Her whole body trembled as she forced herself to her feet, legs wobbling, and blood dripping from her lower lip. "Victory or death," she said. "I will achieve my goals or die trying."

"There will be other tournaments -" Brandon began, trying to reason with her.

"And there will always be men like _you."_ [FN] snapped, willing the trembling in her body to still as she straightened. "Men who think they get to tell me who and what I get to be."

Andie winced as Catalina sighed. "She's made it personal."

"I'm not going to let you make me the sword you throw yourself on," he said. "Your pride is going to get you killed. I just hope for all our sakes you don't take anyone else down with you." Brandon threw his sword in the dirt at her feet, and turned to the nearest marshal. "I concede."

Fury twisted her features as she took a step toward him, and she opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it, pulling herself up to her full height as the herald ran out onto the field to announce her victory. "Lords and Ladies, good people of the crownlands! I give you your next queen, Elspeth MacGregor!"

The crowd cheered and she bowed, but both Solas and Alfred shot to their feet as she wobbled. "It's just a few steps more, [FN]," Catalina whispered. "Come on."

A cluster of medics stood at the far side of the field, looking at [FN] in concern as she turned from the herald toward the royal pavilion. Solas hissed between his teeth at the sight of her blood running down her chin, and the medics started moving toward her.

[FN] collapsed against Solas's chest, unable to bear her own weight, her every breath labored and raspy. _"Ladana em,"_ she demanded, clinging to him. _"Ladana em i've es'an gara."_

"Stall the medics," Solas ordered, fueling his voice with all the authority of Fen'harel. The others leapt to obey and he turned his attention back to [FN], pulling her behind one of the curtains that sectioned off the pavilion, shoving his hand beneath her armor to the skin of her stomach. _"Ju'garas mar'lan dalem."_

Her laugh was a dark and heady thing against his ear. _"Nea falon'saota or Fen'Harel."_ [FN]'s fingers twisted in his shirt as his magic washed through her, righting broken ribs and healing her wounds. _"Telin elan dala em."_

_"Elanan."_ He said, though his attempt to be menacing was rendered ineffective by the way he kissed her immediately afterward; his tongue forcing her mouth open to taste more of her blood and her desire and how drunk she was on this victory while his fingers worked the latches on her armor.

She laughed into his mouth. _"Sul'emas dirtha'vhen'an."_

Solas groaned. _"Ajuas em felasil."_

_"Lanastas em,"_ she teased.

He pressed his forehead against hers as he looked down into her eyes. _"Ajuas em felasil,"_ he repeated, his tone full of warmth.

[FN] bit her lip. "Solas, I -"

"Either of you care to explain what's going on?" A woman's voice cut through the intimacy of the moment, and Solas looked over his shoulder to see Andie standing at the partition, hot anger on her face.

"Andie," [FN] began, "I don't know what -"

"Save it, sis," the girl's voice was sharp. "I've heard him call you _'Vhen'an.'_ His patients all have sudden and miraculous recoveries. He pulls amazing armor perfectly tailored to you seemingly out of nowhere. I just saw him _heal_ you, with magic, then the two of you babbled in another language for a minute, and you called him 'Solas'." Andie looked between both of them and Solas straightened. "You're really him, aren't you? Solas. Fen'Harel. _The_ Dread Wolf."

There was nothing for it at this point - he let the glamor that hid his true form in this world fall away and stood beside his soulmate as himself. "I am." He felt her fingers lace with his, squeezing his hand tightly.

"I cannot fucking believe this. You jump from cheaters and abusers to…" Andie swallowed, and whispered, "An elven supremacist who's planning _genocide!?_ I knew your taste in men was bad, [FN], but Jesus Christ." With that, his _vhen'an'ara's_ sister stormed out of the room.

"Well," [FN] swallowed. "That could have gone better."


	5. I See His Face [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [FN] makes choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Dragon Age Day! You get not one but two chapters in celebration! As well, I'm posting a Mobile-Friendly version of this work that I'll put in the first chapter's description once it's posted. Things are picking up!

_"Tel'ju'vilan ara'lan i min,"_ [FN] said, looking down at the gown he had made for her. "Solas, it's… it's _too much."_

"Hardly," he argued. "The people crave a story. You have endured great hardship, and now they would see you rise above them in victory. Such tales give them hope they may one day rise above their circumstance as well." He paused, letting her see the smirk that played on his lips. "It will also infuriate those who wish you ill."

He felt the mischievous heat of her gaze before she capitulated, catching the edge of his collar and tugging him down for a kiss. "You're lucky I like silk."

"Very lucky, considering the fabric seems made to adorn you," he agreed. 

[FN] bit her lip. "I need to find time to talk to Andie tonight - alone. She deserves an explanation, and you can't interfere."

"I would not dare interfere with you and your sister."

"Good." She brushed a few loose hairs out of her face. _"Dyir?"_

_ "Dyir." _

* * *

The feast was held outdoors, with long tables set in a clearing between trees strung with tiny lights [FN] called "Christmas lights." Solas found them ingenious, despite her dismissal of them as anachronistic. 

His _vhen’an’ara_ was stopped again and again by well-wishers, each insisting on sharing a moment of her time, or a drink, or some part of her triumph earlier in the day that had moved them. He knew he would have lost his patience early on, and retreated to some quiet corner, but [FN] seemed undisturbed, giving each person her undivided attention until they were finished. 

_"Ane tundra'el, vhen'an,"_ he whispered in her ear.

"You are not kind enough," she countered, but took his hint and led him to their seats at one of the long tables. She was not anything official until they announced her victory, but even in shadow she was far and away the most beautiful woman present.

[FN] let her head drop to his shoulder, still tired from the day's exertions. "I think you will do well in Thedas," he murmured into her hair. "You're skilled at arms, you've got a decent grasp of the culture, and you're learning magic."

She laughed and speared a piece of some green vegetable he was unfamiliar with. "I am starting with a leg up," she said, before popping it into her mouth.

"You've earned it from your performance here," Solas mused, pinching a piece off the roll in front of him. "And Thedas will be better in the sense that your sex will matter little." He glanced over at Brandon, who was deep in his cups with a group of unfamiliar men at a far table. _"Es'an nen eth i'tel na, my ny daremah."_

_ "Andie tel'nea." _

Solas shook his head. _"Ase. Mar asa'ma'lin shalaan na, o eolasas. I'tel ash, tel'dirth'alir tath."_ He laughed. _" Ar avy isala na tath."_

 _"Vyn Isala ma?"_ [FN] shook her head. _"Ame amahn."_

"Not close enough for my tastes," he teased, nudging her gently with his shoulder.

 _"Min'nydha,"_ she reminded.

He smirked and turned his attention to his plate. _Min'nydha."_

They sat in companionable silence, watching the crowd, until King Roger motioned the Seneschal over, prompting [FN] to reach for her wine and drain the glass in a single swallow.

"What is it?" he asked. 

"I'm about to upset a number of people," she said quietly. "Be ready to slip into the trees, in case they turn on you."

 _"Turn_ on me?"

His _vhen’an’ara_ said nothing, just made a dismissive motion with her hand towards him as Roger stood, clearing his throat. "Lords, Ladies, Gentlefolk - quite a tourney we had today, eh?" The crowd laughed, with a few interspersed whoops, but the king held up a hand and they fell to silence. "Herald, if you would."

A young woman stepped forward, in bright livery, and called out, "Lady Elspeth, victor of the field, Their Majesties command you to present yourself and your consort before the Throne."

[FN] stood, walking around the tables alone. Whispers broke out the closer she got to the throne, turning into actual conversations when she bowed and knelt, still unattended. Roger reached for a pendant that had been left conspicuously on a side table near him, and Brandon shot to his feet. "She _must_ have a consort!"

The king glanced down at [FN], and nodded once. In a single fluid motion, she stood and turned, the silk of her skirts fluttering in her wake. "I have a consort, Bryant. One you and yours have given me, by the works of your own hands: I have made pride my paramour, and taken bitterness for a bridegroom. Further, you conceded "

"Corporate specifies you must name a consort," he argued.

"Then I name my blade, for he has carried me far further than any other here." She took a step toward him. "I would be pleased to allow you to make his acquaintance again, if you promise you will not capitulate this time."

The crowd laughed, but Solas did not. He could see a muscle feather in Brandon's cheek as he set his jaw, and knew it would only be trouble later. 

"Well, Seneschal?" [FN] said. "Must I name a consort?"

The Seneschal held up his hand, and Solas realized he was on a cellular phone. The room remained silent, staring at him in anticipation until he pulled it away from his ear, tapped a button, and nodded to Roger. "It's good."

[FN] smiled triumphantly and turned back to the Throne, kneeling again, while Roger and Catalina murmured to each other over the contents of the table. Then the king took up the pendant again and approached her. "Elspeth, by your valor and skill, you have most nobly advanced the honor of your name, and won to yourself the office and estate of Crown Princess of this kingdom." He placed the pendant around her neck, and Solas leaned his head on one hand and sighed, flicking his finger to add a touch of magic and ensure the chain did not catch on her hair. He so enjoyed the pageantry of these things, and even more the knowledge that his _vhen’an’ara_ was achieving something important to her; when she left this world, he did not want her to have regrets.

Catalina then reached over and picked up a crown of flowers, approaching [FN]. "Princess Elspeth," she said, and her voice was warm with affection. "I pray you take this wreath of rosemary and roses, for tonight you are our Queen of Love and Beauty, and Crown Princess of this kingdom." She placed the crown on [FN]'s head, and then took her hands, pulling her to her feet and kissing both of her cheeks. "Now, there is much drink and dancing to be had, and unless I miss my guess, a gentleman who would like to share them both with you." 

"Probably more than one!" someone shouted, and the crowd broke into laughter and applause as the minstrels began to play. [FN] came to Solas's side, taking his hand and pulling him out of his seat as he took her in his arms.

"I had once feared you were not ready for Thedas," he murmured into her hair as they danced, and other couples joined them. "Now I fear Thedas is not ready for you."

"Thedas is not ready for either of us," she countered. "But I think it will be safe enough; we'll be so busy with each other it need not fear what we might do."

"That sounds delightful." The combination of the herbs and flowers of her crown and her usual perfume was turning his head. "I have heard you will keep me quite distracted."

"What do you mean by that?"

Solas chuckled. "They say a _vhen’an’ara_ drives a man to madness for want of her. That once he's lost himself between her thighs no other satisfies."

[FN] rolled her eyes. "I don't care if I'm the most disappointing lay you've ever had," she said. "Once we embark on that chapter of the relationship, you will not have anyone else. If you do, we're over; I do not give second chances."

"I've known that for a long time," he said, and pressed his lips to the shell of her ear. "I have not had a mortal in thousands of years, _vhen'an._ You are the only one that has tempted me in all that time."

He watched as she tried to come up with some argumentative response, but finally looked away and blushed. "You're a fool."

"Only for you," he agreed. "Now dance with me, Princess, and let me enjoy the warmth of your good opinion."

* * *

The walk back to the tent was filled with unspoken promises and breathless anticipation. Solas couldn't help but wonder if she was as nervous about this as he was. He felt like a callow youth again, simultaneously giddy at the thought of what was to come and terrified that he would disappoint her. Not that he was unwilling to learn her desires, but one only gets one chance at a first impression.

Sounds of distant laughter and revelry still chased through the campground as she tugged him through the entrance to her tent to the darkness within. _"Vhen'an'ara, ar -"_ he began, but [FN] pressed a finger to his lips, stilling him to silence. With her other hand, she made a mote of veilfire, and let it slide from her fingers into a mason jar that had once held the pins in her hair.

He could not help but stare at it, even though it was quite possibly the least absurd thing about this whole situation. How easily his _Elgar'dirtha'vhen'an_ had taken things that were so foreign to her and braided them into her life for him; she had done so before she even knew he was _real._ Had some part of their interactions in the Fade carried over before she woke there properly? Had she -

"Solas," [FN] whispered, calling his attention back to her. "You're thinking too much, love." Her hand moved from his lips to the side of his neck, and she kissed him gently.

"So I am," he agreed as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again. They would have millenia to dissect the details of these first few interactions; he would live in the moment for now. Solas deepened the kiss, letting his tongue slip past her lips to enjoy the way she tasted vaguely of wine and that ephemeral essence that was uniquely _her._

Pulling her tighter against him with one arm, he carefully lifted the crown of flowers from her head. "When you are in Thedas, I will have the finest smiths make you one of these of gold and gems," he promised before brushing her hair over her shoulder so he could pepper kisses along the line of her neck, and her answering laugh made her skin hum beneath his lips.

"I think once I am by your side, you will give me anything I want," she retorted, and the veilfire caught the flash of her teeth in the darkness as she tugged at the laces holding her dress shut. 

"I think you might be correct, _vhen'an,"_ he agreed, letting his eyes drop to her body, and biting his lip at the sight. He had seen naked human women before, but the differences that had once been nothing more than an idle point of trivia when compared to the Elvhen now enticed him. There was more of her everywhere: stronger arms that caught herself as he lowered her to the pallet of blankets on the ground; larger breasts that filled his hands as he lavished them with kisses; and thicker thighs that held him fast as he settled between them. 

[FN] responded every time he touched her, leaning into each caress and gasping at each nibble, but very quickly seemed to grow frustrated, until at last she snapped. "Stop holding back."

"What?" Solas asked, looking up from where he'd been trailing his fingers down past her navel. 

"You're touching me like I'm made of glass," she said. "I can handle far more than one of your elven girls, Fen'harel." She used his title as a taunt, but the way she said it stirred him. It was a challenge - a reminder that she was not just the soulmate of Solas, the gentle apostate mage, but also the Dread Wolf, the Evanuris and the Trickster.

He leaned down again, brushing his lips along the hollow of her throat. "Be careful what you wish for, [FN]." His fingers pressed their way between her folds and he took his time exploring her by touch as she dragged her fingers over his scalp. "Once I have let go of my pretensions of docility it will be difficult to take them up again."

She sneered at his words, one side of her mouth tugging upward in a mocking grin. "If I wanted someone who would leave me so unsatisfied I would have taken Brandon up on his offer."

Solas bit the shell of her ear and [FN] arched against him in surprise, which he took advantage of to slide two fingers into her. "Don't talk about other men in our bed, beloved," he scolded, rubbing her inner walls with long, deliberate strokes that made her whimper. "You are mine. Don't forget that."

[FN] opened her mouth to argue but he covered it with his own, kissing her while his thumb found her clit and rubbed it in deliberate circles. Her hips bucked against him and he chuckled into their kiss. "No more mockery?" he asked, pressing his thumb down harder until she cried out. "Do you still think I will do anything other than endeavor to satisfy you?"

She went to answer him, but he kissed her again, biting her lip when she tried to tear her face away as her breaths came faster. Solas refused to relent, not until her thighs locked around him and [FN] keened into his mouth as his fingers and thumb drew her climax from her. He only waited for her to release her grip on him before he replaced his fingers with his cock and hilted himself in a single smooth motion.

That had been a mistake. He knew she was stronger than the partners he was used to, but he hadn't realized she'd be stronger _inside,_ as well. Her body gripped him like a vice, and he was terrified to move lest he spend himself before he could really enjoy her; regardless, he was pleased to learn the rumors were true - no other lover could compare. 

It seemed [FN] was not one for mercy either, and she rolled her hips, pulling him deeper into her body and forcing a groan out of his throat. "Do you want me to finish when we're just getting started?" Solas hissed. 

Her thumb brushed along his ear, lingering on the point. "You're welcome to try to resist me, if you even can."

Solas chuckled and grabbed one of her hips to brace himself. "And you thought I would have preferred a virgin," he teased before riding her in earnest. His knowledge of his own body was not wrong and he finished with all the expedience of an over-eager boy, grinding his hips into the back of her thighs as if he could go even deeper purely by force of will alone. 

Once he'd caught his breath, he nuzzled against her cheek and chuckled. "Give me a little time to rest, my dear, and I would like to have you again."

[FN] purred and traced her fingers over his skin. "That sounds nice," she agreed. "Maybe we ca-"

A strangled cry from the forest interrupted them, and [FN] sat up. "That sounds like…" her voice trailed off, and another cry came, a little closer. She looked to Solas, already on her feet. "Andie."

All at once it was a flurry of motion. Solas reflexively clothed them both as [FN] bolted from the tent, darting through the trees just ahead of him. "Andie?!" she shouted, and Brandon's laugh was the only answer she got.

The two of them stumbled into a clearing to find Brandon pinning Andie against a tree with one hand; the other held a gun, which he was waving about erratically. Solas reached out to freeze the man, but [FN] gave a short shake of her head. "No," she said clearly. "This one's _mine."_

The sound of her voice drew Brandon's attention from Andie, and he turned, pointing the gun at [FN]. "There you are, your _highness,"_ he slurred. Behind him, Andie started sobbing and clutched her torn shirt over her chest as she slumped to the ground. "I wasn't good enough for you before, but you can't let your sister have me either?"

"It's pretty clear she doesn't want you," [FN] snapped, and took a step toward him. 

"Ah, ah, ah," he argued, waving the gun slightly. "No closer. Not unless you're here to take her place."

"That's fine." Solas's _vhen’an’ara_ didn't blink. "Solas, take my sister back to the tent."

"I'm not leaving you here with -"

"Don't argue with me," she ordered, every inch the queen. "Andie, you will come over here, and I will go over there."

"You come over here first," Brandon countered, but it came off more like the petulant demand of a child compared to the way [FN] gave commands. "Then I'll let her go."

"Fine."

Solas felt the press of the Fade - heavy and hard - as [FN] walked forward, but said nothing. He had known how this was going to end from the moment she used his true name in front of the other man. He only hoped she was sure of what she planned to do.

Brandon smirked at him over her shoulder. "I think you are gonna stay and watch, Doc. You should enjoy the show." The brute swayed on his feet. 

"I'm certain I will," he replied. "Such a pity it will be over quickly."

"I bet I last longer than you."

"I doubt it."

"Andie." [FN] said quietly. "Stay exactly where you are."

Confusion flashed across Brandon's face, and Solas bit the inside of his cheek as his _vhen’an’ara._ made her move. Lightning-quick, she lunged forward, mimicking the way she would strike with a sword, but now her hand was open and the Fade of her world answered her anger. A spike of lyrium burst from the ground at her side, moving in the same motion as her blade would have, impaling the man through the chest and leaving him struggling for breath as he stared incredulously at his blood trailing along the cracks and grooves of the humming stone.

Andie scrambled to the side and onto her feet, out from under the lyrium and stared in horror at [FN]. "You killed him."

Brandon tried to lift his gun but he was too drunk, too weak, and when he tried to cry out he couldn't get enough air. [FN] said nothing, just watched him until his body stopped fighting and the gun clattered to the ground.

"Solas." She finally spoke, and her voice was still hard. "Walk Andie back to her tent and help her find new clothes."

"Sis," Andie said. "What about you?"

"Someone has to clean this up." Her voice was clipped, but she turned slowly through a common swordmaster's reversal and the lyrium sank back into the ground.

"We will discuss this once you return," Solas said. Mages in Thedas could not work with lyrium like this, and it was the second time he had seen it answer her call. His thoughts lingered on the truth he had remembered earlier - she was the _vhen’an’ara_ of Fen'harel. For all that he tried to pretend that didn't mean anything, she seemed to have more than a few tricks of her own.

"Perhaps," she conceded. "For now, make sure my sister is safe."

"As you say, _vhen’an’ara."_ He nodded to Andie. "Let us depart for our camp." 

[FN]'s sister bit her lip and glanced anxiously between them before following him back into the forest.

* * *

When Andie emerged from her tent again, Solas was waiting with a cup of tea. Though he personally despised the stuff, and had filled his mug with water, the girl looked shaken up. She took the mug in silence and sat across the fire from him, staring into its flickering depths.

He intended not to trouble her with words, but she abruptly asked, "Is that the first time she's killed someone?"

"As far as I know."

She lifted the teat to her lips, and savored it for a few minutes. "She hates death and murder. I don't understand why she's with you."

"She is my _vhen’an’ara."_

Andie shook her head. "I don't speak Dalish."

"It's not Dalish," he corrected, "it's Elvhen." Solas glanced up to see her giving him a level look across the fire, and he chuckled. "Your sister is my soulmate."

"Those are _real?"_ she blurted out. "I thought they were just a fairy tale thing."

"They're real enough in Thedas, though rare now that not everyone has some access to the Fade. Even in Ancient Arlathan, they were uncommon."

"Is that why you came here?" Andie asked. "To find her?"

"Yes. And once I have made Thedas safe for her, she will join me there."

The girl's gaze was hard. "She will not let you do it, you know. My sister will stop you."

"As I have told [FN], she is welcome to try."

"She won't try, she _will._ She probably already has a plan." Solas wanted to argue, but he remembered the spike of lyrium through Brandon's chest. The _Lath'anshiral_ was fraught with the pain of change. 

Thankfully, Andie didn't seem to be waiting for a response. She changed the subject, instead. "Is there any way I can go to Thedas with her?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "[FN] can only go because she wakes in the Fade."

"She never mentioned anything about waking in the Fade," she argued.

"My _vhen’an’ara_ did not remember that she did until I taught her magic." 

"Maybe I -" Andie's voice cut off and she looked up. "[FN]."

Solas stood, turning to see his lover approaching from the tree line. "My dearest, I-"

"Are you okay, Andie?" [FN] asked, moving past him to her sister. "Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head. "He just pawed at my shirt and threatened me a lot." Andie laughed nervously. "I think he was too drunk to actually…" Her voice trailed off.

"Well, you don't need to worry about him anymore."

"So, he's really gone, huh?"

"Yes." [FN]'s face was grim. "If anyone asks, we were all together all night."

"Of course," Andie nodded.

"Is there anything I can do to help right now?" That was when Solas picked it up - the edge of weariness in [FN]'s voice.

Her sister shook her head. "Not tonight. But I might go home after the minstrel's challenge tomorrow."

"I will go with -"

"No," Andie said. "If you go people will ask questions. You need to present the face that nothing is wrong." Her eyes flicked towards the trees. "Especially now."

"But -"

"I'll be _fine,"_ she said, interrupting another of [FN]'s objections. "Please, Sis. You did something horrible to protect me. I'm safe. The worst is past. Now I just deal with my feelings regarding it, and I can't do that if I'm worried about you. So you go to bed. Cuddle with your elf boyfriend. Come wake me up in the Fade, if I'm there."

"He told you about magic."

"Only a little," Andie conceded. "But it would certainly put a bow on today for me."

[FN] pursed her lips, then glanced at Solas before saying, "We'll discuss it later, when we're alone."

He chuckled. "I can go if you'd prefer."

"No, not right now," she said. "I need some sleep."

Andie nodded. "So do I."

* * *

"Have you figured out how to get me to Thedas?" [FN] asked from where she lay, with her head resting on Solas's chest.

"I have a few theories," he bluffed, "but nothing concrete yet." In truth, he already knew how it would be done; his primary concern was what Andie had said earlier - that [FN] not only had a plan to stop his rending of the Veil, but that she would succeed. The concept made his resolve to do it before she ever _got_ to Thedas much firmer.

"What happens if I can't get there? If I am trapped here?" 

Solas tightened his arm around her and pressed his lips against her forehead. "Then I will return to Thedas one last time to formally enter the _Uthenera_ , and come here to live with you."

"But you hate this world. You've talked numerous times about how its Dead Fade and -"

Solas kissed her, cutting off the way her mind was starting to spiral in her exhaustion, and when he pulled away he pressed his forehead against hers. "I could never hate this world, not when it created you. I won't lie to you; I would vastly prefer to bring you to Thedas. But if the choice is a life in Thedas or a life with you, I will take the latter."

[FN] blinked incredulously. "Why? Thedas has so much to offer and it's full of -"

It was his turn to press a finger to her lips. "The Thedas I adored has passed into memory. Even if I am successful, it will not bring things back exactly the same. It will be a new world, but far better than the one they currently have. But you…" Solas tried to imagine going back to Thedas and leaving her here forever, but his mind fled from the very concept and his chest ached, so he shook his head. "My life with you is a new world, too, and one that _only I_ can enjoy." He chuckled. "I am too proud to let that go."

Her eyes lifted to meet his; Solas kissed her before she could try to argue again. "Rest, my love," he murmured into her lips. "You have had a trying day, and we can talk more in the Fade."

"I don't know if I can sleep," [FN] confessed. "I…" Her eyes darkened. "Every time I close my eyes I see his face."

"The first is always the hardest," he agreed, and stroked his thumb across her cheek in an attempt at comfort. "You should rest."

"I can't," she whimpered. "I am afraid of what the Fade will be when I arrive."

"You will not face it alone, _vhen'an._. I will help in any way I can."

"Then help me sleep, since you said I can ask you for things."

He gave a short nod and splayed his hands over her skin - in moments [FN]'s eyes had fluttered shut, and he followed soon after.

The Fade was a riot of screaming voices and terror and his _vhen’an’ara_ was in the middle of it, covering her ears and crying. But, true to form, there were no spirits, which meant it was only her fears being reflected, no spirits torturing her.

"[FN]," Solas said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm here." At his touch, [FN] threw herself against his chest, and he wrapped her tightly in his arms. "Let me work."

Inhaling deeply, Solas forced his will out onto the raw essence of her Fade, reordering it into familiar forms and silencing the echoes that tormented her. It was far simpler here, with no spirits or other _Somniari_ to contend with, and he couldn't help but wonder if that had been intentional on some level - if whoever dictated such things as the _Lath'anshiral_ had given him a _Elgar'dirtha'vhen'an_ with a world perfect for learning in.

When all was settled and she'd cried herself out, he wiped her tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

[FN] sniffled. "What is there to say? I killed one of my friends for threatening my sister." Her shoulders shook. "I didn't expect to lose my temper like that, but I just…" 

"You don't have to justify it to me, my love. The only thing I'd have done differently is killing him a bit sooner." He paused and looked up at the stars, realizing he'd created the constellations of Thedas, not her world. "What did you do with the body?"

"I dumped the body in the lake," she whispered. "It was the best I could come up with."

"Did anyone see you?" 

"Not that I know of," she said. "But I will probably be questioned by the police when they figure out he's missing."

"We will find our way through it," he said. "And I will help you every step of the way." The silence stretched, and he realized she was staring at something behind him. He glanced back and frowned, then returned to looking at her. "What?"

[FN] shook her head. "It's nothing, just a wraith."


	6. Descant: The Eluvian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now our second viewpoint character (finally) enters the scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's your second chapter for Dragon Age Day! Don't hesitate to leave a comment and let me know what you think!
> 
> Also: None of the Elvhen in this chapter is translated; as Fenris doesn't speak Dalish/Elvhen well like Solas and [FN], half the time he doesn't know the intricacies of what he's saying. All of the Elvhen here is from the games.

**Fenris**

His tattoos itched.

That was the first sign a spirit was near but he was content to let it continue watching him so he could at least finish his drink. Dealing with it would come after. He had paid good coin for this wine, and he wasn't about to waste it.

Footsteps drew closer, then a blond idiot, somewhere between a boy and a man, climbed onto the stool beside him, and Fenris's tattoos burned. He had to get this human out of here; the spirit was close.

"You're in the wrong tavern, boy," he snapped, filling his glass again. "If I were you, I wou-"

"You are Fenris. The Blue Wraith."

"I'm not for hire."

"But -"

"Leave."

"She needs your help."

Fenris rolled his eyes. "Let me guess? Your poor mother is being harassed by a debtor with more thugs than -"

"She wants to stop Fen'harel."

"Good luck with that," Fenris snorted and took a drink of wine from his bottle. A man claiming to be an agent of that mythical Dalish god had tried to recruit him years ago - but he had been an apostate, and drummed out of the Inquisition or some such, so he hadn't been inclined to help, regardless of the Dread Wolf's rumored opinions on slavery.

"I don't want to fight you." The boy's tone was almost mournful. "Please, at least listen. She can make it stop crawling beneath your skin. She can even take it away, if you want." 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the idiot reaching to touch one of his tattoos, and lightning quick pulled a dagger and brandished it at him. "How many times do I have to tell you _no_ before…" Fenris's voice trailed off as he regarded the unwelcome interloper. Wide hat, doleful blue eyes, face that's too young for the thing's it had seen - and his tattoos burned worse the closer he came. "You're the one Varric told me about."

"Yes," he agreed readily. "They call me Cole."

Sheathing his dagger again, Fenris sighed. "Varric vouching for you is the only reason we're talking, spirit. So tell me what you want, and try to be coherent."

Cole seemed to consider the request for a long time before he said, "She wants to stop Fen'harel; she's the only one who can, but she can't do it alone. She -"

"Who is _she,"_ he snapped. "You haven't given me a name."

"[FN]. Elspeth. _Vhen'an'ara._ She answers to many names, and plans to take more, so he cannot catch her until all his plans are undone."

Fenris rubbed his temple with two fingers. "Why do I care about someone trying to stop Fen'harel? He's fake. An old Dalish myth."

"Varric named him 'Chuckles.'"

 _"The kid knows things he shouldn't,"_ Varric had said one night, talking about this 'Cole.' _"He's a good kid. Wants to do what's right. Just promise me, Broody: if he ever asks for your help, do it for me."_

"What, exactly, does _'she'_ want me to do?"

* * *

It had been years since Fenris had returned to Kirkwall, and for all that he was sure Varric was an excellent Viscount, even in his dotage, there were some truths of cities that never changed: they were always loud, they were always crowded, and they always stank. So despite all the changes Tethras had brought to Kirkwall, it still felt strangely like home.

The people didn't recognize him - then again, they hadn't recognized him back then, either. Perhaps that's why no one commented when he strolled through the gates of the alienage. To them, he was just another elf, probably Dalish with unusual _vallaslin._ Despite all this, he was far more concerned with the uncomfortable conversation he was about to have.

Fenris had strictly avoided Merrill since the end of his relationship with Hawke; his lover had been the only mage he respected, but once he discovered what was happening to him (or more precisely, what _wasn't_ happening to him) he had been unable to stay with him. Of all the other mages he knew, Merrill was one of the worst.

He could tolerate mages that tried to follow the old Circle traditions that had been tossed aside ever since Divine Victoria came into power; he felt outright _pity_ for the Saarebas. He disliked apostates, and avoided them when he could - but blood mages like Merrill were the worst of the worst. It had taken the combined demands of Hawke and Varric to keep him from killing her on numerous occasions. Now it seemed she had a purpose, though one he didn't quite understand. According to Cole, it all came down to her mirror - an "Eluvian."

Knocking twice on the door, he heard a young woman's voice call out, "I'm coming!" There was some rustling, and then an elven girl opened the door. "How can I help you, ser?"

"I've come to see Merrill," he said simply. "If she's interested in speaking with me."

She pursed her lips. "And you are?"

"Fenris," he said, giving a half-bow. "Tell her it's important. Tell her…" His tongue worked over the phrase Cole had taught him before scampering off to who knows where. _"Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris."_

 _"Amae lethalas,"_ she said, immediately opening the door so he could come in. "I'm Silea. I didn't know Solas had returned."

 _Solas,_ he remembered that had been the name of the man who tried to recruit him.

"No," Fenris shook his head. "He sent me instead to speak with Merrill. Time is of the essence."

Silea nodded. "Of course, of course, I'll go see if she's awake."

"I'll make some tea," he offered blandly, "if you could point me toward the kitchens." As if he didn't remember where they were.

She gestured towards the side door. "Thank you, Fenris, ser," Silea said before heading up the stairs.

He walked in and looked around, finding a wooden tray and a ceramic tea set painted with simple flowers. After filling the pot from a kettle near the stove, Fenris took a small vial of clear liquid from the pouch at his hip and added it to the hot water, giving it a stir, before he dumped in some tea leaves and grabbed sugar and milk.

The girl returned just as he was adding a small plate of cookies to the tray. "I wasn't sure what type she'd like," he admitted, "so I grabbed one of each."

"You are a lifesaver," she replied, and turned to head up the stairs. 

Following, he glanced down at the teapot. "Anything but."

At the top of the stairs, Silea knocked on the door before pushing it open without waiting for a reply. Fenris followed her in to find Merrill, her dark hair now faded to near-white, and wrinkles beginning to crawl across her face. 

She stilled when she saw him, her eyes going wide, and she straightened from where she was leaning over a broken mirror. "Fenris?"

"Merrill." His voice was irritated. "Did you break your… what did you call it? _Eluvian?"_

Her laughter bubbled up from her and she moved toward a small table with stools around it, clearing space for the tray in his hands. "No, mine's still just fine, despite an adventure in Halamshiral. I'm just repairing that one. But…" She looked at him again. "Fenris, you haven't aged a day."

"Another gift from my dearly departed master," he said acerbically. "Something to do with my connection to the Fade, but I'm not completely sure how it works." He set the tray down on the table. "But please, show me what you're working on while Silea pours the tea. We have much to discuss, you and I."

Merrill eyed him dubiously, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the assistant before leading him toward the broken mirror on her workbench. "Solas told me you denied his attempts to recruit you."

"I did, initially," he replied. "But then I spoke with a messenger from Fen'harel's _vhen'an'ara."_

Silea laughed. "Fen'harel doesn't have a soulmate."

"That's what I thought initially, too, but Solas confirmed both her existence, and that the spirit in question was her messenger," he lied smoothly.

The assistant's eyebrows climbed. "How do you take your tea, Master Fenris?"

He flinched at the use of the term _'Master,'_ and beside him Merrill coughed. "Plain."

"You were saying?" his old… well, not friend, but compatriot, asked. 

"Right. Her messenger wanted to know more about your research into Eluvians. Apparently she needs them for a project, to rapidly increase the working mirrors in the Crossroads. I spoke to Solas about it and he chewed my ear off for daring to question her in the first place." Fenris rolled his eyes. "So here I am."

She pursed her lips, then gratefully accepted the cup of tea Silea offered her while he took his. Her assistant picked up a third, and the three of them stood staring at the broken mirror on the table before Merrill clicked her tongue. "I would appreciate it if you drank first, Fenris."

"Of course," he replied, and took a swallow. He'd been dosing himself with the stuff for weeks now, ever since Cole's visit. "I can't say I blame you."

After glancing in his cup and seeing he had actually drunk some, both women visibly relaxed, and Silea drank hers while Merrill gave him a winning smile. "I'm glad to see you've come around at last, Fenris, even if it did take a few deca -"

Silea made a choking noise, and collapsed to the ground, teacup shattering as it fell from her grasp. Merrill shrieked and lunged toward her, but Fenris caught her in his arms and held her fast through all of the assistant's death throes. 

That, in the end, was why he decided not to kill her. Despite her cries of "Why?" and "How could you?" Merrill did not attempt to strike him or use blood magic. She just wept. Once he was sure Silea was dead, he set Merrill back on her feet, and she brushed a lock of salt-and-pepper hair out of her face. "Why did you kill her?"

"Because she's an agent of Fen'harel, and was probably going to kill you once you finished repairing the Eluvians he asked for." 

"But you work for him!"

"No," he shook his head. "I work for myself. But I am working _with_ his soulmate."

"Why?"

He placed a hand on the frame of the Eluvian on her table. "Do you know what Fen'harel actually plans to do? Or did you offer your allegiance blindly in service to a dream?"

It took a few hours, but Merrill's sobbing had calmed to a trembling lip by the time she hugged Fenris. "He's going to kill me when he finds out, you know." She swallowed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "When he learns I've betrayed him."

"Ask for clemency in her name," he said, shifting the load on his back. The Eluvian was more unwieldy than he expected, given its size and spiralling arms, but not unbearably so. He was made more uncomfortable by her expression of affection, but he needed to keep her on this mysterious [FN]'s side. "Until then, go to Varric. He knew Solas and he cares for you like a daughter. He will find a way to protect you as long as he can."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to meet up with her messenger, the spirit I told you about, Cole." He ran a hand through his shock of white hair. "He's going to tell me how to find her." Fenris paused. "Did you ever learn how to activate it?"

She shook her head. "Solas said he knew how, and he would teach me when he returned."

"Let's hope she can figure it out then," he said affably. "Send for Varric. He'll hide the body."

"When will you be back?"

"I don't know," he confessed. "But it's better than sitting around here, letting another upstart mage kill a large swath of people."

Merrill winced, "I wouldn't exactly call Fen'harel an upstart but…" She glanced towards the Chantry's new tower, rebuilt in the years since Anders. "Good luck."

* * *

Halamshiral was bustling as always, especially in the wake of the recent coronation of Emperor Judicael III, a distant cousin of the late Empress Celene. The politics of his selection were dizzying and boring, and Fenris decided it was much too irritating to think about when they mattered so little to his goal. Instead he slipped into the Winter Palace, phasing through the walls and hallways like the Wraith he was.

The directions Cole had given to their meeting place were strange - "when you hear the glass shatter, turn left," had led him down a secret hallway; "don't forget to give the woman in red a kiss," had shown him the location of a secret door into the storage rooms. And there, at the bottom, just where Cole had said it would be, was an Eluvian.

An _active_ Eluvian.

Fenris checked his equipment one last time. His leathers were in good repair. His swords and daggers were well maintained, and he had plenty of oil and a whetstone to keep them sharp. He had enough dried rations for a 'long journey,' and the rest of his bag was filled with a few basic supplies and wine. Cole had told him he had one job: to journey deep into the Fade, to this [FN] woman's hiding place, and deliver the Eluvian, as well as a copy of Merrill's notes. 

"I'm daft for doing this," he growled, then stepped through the mirror before him and nearly fell.

The realm before him was… strange. Globe-like trees were scattered about between mirrors, that reflected back to him the swimming colors of the air and the strange ruins scattered all around. "What is this place?" he murmured under his breath.

"The Crossroads," Cole said, and Fenris nearly jumped out of his skin at the spirit's sudden appearance at his elbow. "They come and go, in and out, watching and waiting and searching. They will not have the finding, of him or her, not until it's all gone tumbling down."

"... right…" he said, already second-guessing his decision to trust this boy. But Varric had been so sure, so _adamant,_ and if half of what he said of Fen'harel was true, the Dread Wolf must be stopped. "Well, worst case scenario, I die."

"You've seen worse things, and made yourself forget. You can forget again, in the dark."

He clenched his jaw. "You said you'd tell me where I need to take this thing."

"Through the Fade, to the Abyss. That way you can open the door, and wake the Princess."

"Princess?" 

Cole's smile was affable. "We'll be late." Then he took off between the mirrors, running towards the far end of the cemetery they made of themselves, tombstones to whatever empire had built this place. Fenris was forced to run to keep up, and he followed the spirit-boy through mirror after mirror, into strange vista's he'd never seen, then back out again to another place with rainbow skies, then back again, until at last they came to a large mirror, and he smiled triumphantly. "Last one."

"Andraste's Arse, it better be," he swore, more than aware he sounded like Varric. "This thing isn't light." Fenris jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the sleeping Eluvian on his back. "Where does this lead?"

"The Fade. Then I will show you how to find the way."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you wanted to kill me there are much more efficient ways to do so."

"That's good to know," a strangely accented voice said behind him, and Cole's face fell. Fenris turned to find an elf with pale skin and paler hair, bearing one of the traditional _vallaslin._ "What are you doing in the Dread Wolf's territory?"

 _Lie,_ his instincts screamed, and so he did. "Solas asked me to run an errand. I must be quick." Cole made a pained noise behind him.

"You have a quick tongue, duplicitous as it is," the other man said. "Do you so wish to die?"

"Abelas," Cole interrupted. "Fen'harel walks his _Lath'anshiral._ He asked me to bring an Eluvian to him, so that his _Elgar'dirtha'vhen'an_ might join him here in Thedas."

The man blinked. "You were with the inquisitor."

"I was."

Abelas glanced between Cole and Fenris. "If he asked you to bring an Eluvian, why did you involve this shadow?"

Cole licked his lips. "He walks his _Lath'anshiral_ as well."

"Prove it."

Fenris looked at his companion out of the corner of his eye, unsure what they were even talking about but the spirit said, "Take off your gauntlets."

"What?" he whispered.

"Take. Off. Your gauntlets." the boy repeated, his eyes not leaving Abelas.

Grumbling under his breath, Fenris opened the clasps on each, then pulled them off one at a time, then scowled, picking in confusion at the red thread tied around his little finger. Some magical element of it lifted the frayed end, tugging it backward toward the mirror. "When I find out what mage -"

The other elf bowed. "Very well. I will allow you to pass. But I will tell Lord Solas about this when he returns."

"You're welcome to," Fenris snapped, but Cole grabbed his hand and tugged him after, through the mirror and into the Fade.

As soon as they had their bearings he snatched his hand back from the Spirit. "Don't touch me."

"We have to hurry."

"Hurry where?"

"To find the other end," Cole said, gesturing to the string on his hand. "Your _Vhen'an'ara."_

"Isn't that Fen'harel's -"

"Sisters," he said abruptly. "One to bear the sword, one to bear the standard. One to save the Maker's Children, one to save the other. One for the Wolf, one for the Wraith."

"You make little sense and less," Fenris began, and looked back toward the Eluvian he'd come through. Did he really trust Varric this far?

"You have no one to protect anymore." Cole interrupted. "That's why you did it. Why you let them lock you up inside the metal maiden. Why you let them burn away your chains and pour the Song into your skin." He licked his lips. "She can sing a new one, that will not burn as much. The song inside you is not the one you were meant to carry."

Something in the spirit's words made him feel sick, and he looked down at his hands, at the gentle lines that he despised, but were more familiar to him now than even Hawke's face had been. 

"Don't stop loving," Cole said, and Fenris looked up to see the boy was crying. "Don't stop loving, even if you can no longer bear to love me." Those had been the last words Hawke had said to him, before he'd fled, when he could no longer deny that his lover was getting older and he was not. He had been a coward, and ran from what they had, and had suffered for it since - doubly so since word of Hawke's death reached him.

"Get out of my head," he snapped at the spirit, but he shifted the pack on his shoulder, made sure the Eluvian was secure, and shoved his gauntlets into his belt so he could watch the thread.

* * *

Fenris wasn't sure how long he walked. Based on the rations, it had probably been weeks, but he'd felt no need to sleep, and time had stretched into a strange spiral that meant nothing to him. The landscape changed too often, and he'd fought too many demons, to really know where he _was_ anymore. He just stared down at the ground, at his hands, and kept moving forward until something tried to stop him. 

Along the way, Cole had tried to explain things. Apparently he had a soulmate too, and she - Cole was very sure they were a she - was the younger sister of Fen'harel's soulmate. He wasn't sure how much he believed of the spirit's rambling.

And then, abruptly, his companion stopped.

"What is it?" Fenris asked, rubbing his eyes.

"I cannot walk this way. Not until Thedas is ready for Andraste to be Reborn."

He snorted. "They'll never be ready for that," Fenris snarked, but looked up at the view ahead of him: a great black void, with endless stars flickering in the dark. The sight took his breath away, and he took a step forward without realizing it. He was not a firm believer. His faith never came as easily as Varric's or Sebastian's. But as he looked out on that vista, he felt something move within him, and whispered, "Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls. From these emerald waters doth life begin anew."

"Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you," Cole answered, finishing the verse. "In my arms lies Eternity."

"What will I find there?" he asked, simultaneously hopeful and furious at himself for hoping.

"A world without mages," the spirit answered.

That was all the convincing he needed.

* * *

The thread had led him through the darkness, through abandoned streets in a silent world. He had climbed stairs and walked through empty houses. No spirits haunted this place, no one walked the forest paths, before or behind him. He walked across the surface of a lake, surprised at how undisturbed it was for something that existed in the Fade. He half expected a sea monster to rear up out of its depths, but nothing happened, not until he reached the far side. 

The water began to ripple, and he saw in the water's surface an unfamiliar woman, weeping into her hands. The thread led onward, into the trees, but he bent down to touch the surface of the water anyway. That was a mistake.

Falling through the surface, he came up on the other side, soaking wet and gasping for air, in pain and exhausted as the woman stared incredulously at him. "Fenris?"

"Who are you?" he demanded, putting a hand on the hilt of his nearest dagger. "How do you know my name?"

"It will take a while to explain," she said gently, looking around as if to make sure they were alone. "I'm [FN] -"

"Fen'harel's soulmate," he hissed, hauling himself and the Eluvian onto the banks. "I brought your mirror."

"My mirror?" she asked, approaching cautiously.

"Yes this…" Fenris stretched. "This Maker-forsaken Eluvian. Cole told me you wanted it, and my help, to stop him."

"An Eluvian," she whispered, and [FN] moved to the mirror, pulling aside the protective quilts he and Merrill had wrapped the artifact in. "This is Merrill's -"

"Yes," he said, exasperated. "Merrill's Eluvian. And it was not pleasant getting it here, either. So. Why don't -"

"I can't let Solas see this," she breathed. "I have to find somewhere to hide it, some way to get it home and somewhere to store it he will not look, I have to hide Brandon's body, I have to -"

At the mention of a body he glanced down, and sure enough, a muscular man's body lay in the dirt beside where she'd been sitting, a hole in the center of his chest. Fenris glanced back up at her and saw her shaking hands. "Your first?"

[FN] nodded. "He attacked my sister. I had to protect her."

 _"We'll be late,"_ Cole had said. _"You have no one to protect anymore."_

"Cole was right," he said grimly. "I was late."

"What?"

Fenris shook his head. "I'll handle the body. You find something to do with the Eluvian." He chewed his lip. "How do I get back into the Fade?"

She shrugged. "Go to sleep? That's what Solas and I do."

"Easier said than done."

Her laugh was as dry and cynical as his. "Tell me about it."

"You know what he plans to do?"

"Yes."

"How can you love him, knowing that?"

"I know why he wants to do it. It isn't the path I would choose, but I understand it. So I will endeavor to help him find a different one." [FN] tugged the sheet back over the Eluvian. 

"How does your sister feel about it?"

"Oh, she's furious."

"I like her already," he said, smirking. "I don't seem to have that string on this side of the Veil. How do I find her?"

Her hands froze mid-motion. "String?" she whispered.

"Cole said that the red thread would lead me to your sister, and that she's my _vhen'an'ara."_

"Tomorrow." [FN] said, picking up the mirror. "I will introduce you tomorrow. She's with Solas now."

"Fair enough," he grumbled, and hauled the man's body over his shoulders.

* * *

Sleep found Fenris far easier than he had expected - as if the journey through the Fade was catching up with him at last - and he found himself back in the silent world. The Dread Wolf's woman may have said tomorrow, but he was at least going to follow the thread to its end. He hopped down out of the tree branch where he had been sleeping and crept through the forest, following the thread on the last leg of his journey to a clearing. 

Tents and trees surrounded it on all sides, but in the center was a woman, curled in on herself and sleeping in a pile of blankets far finer than any he'd seen produced in Thedas. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she'd fallen asleep crying, and Fenris spent far longer than he would care to admit staring at her. He catalogued everything, from the shape of her body beneath the blanket to the spectacles clutched in one hand to the fall of her chestnut brown hair across her pillow.

Watching her made him feel exhausted all over again, so despite his better judgement he stretched out on the pile of blankets beside her. What was a _vhen'an'ara?_ If it was just a soulmate why did Solas's servant in the Crossroads treat it with such reverence? There were so many questions he didn't have an answer to, and no one here he felt comfortable asking. 

_"Tomorrow,"_ [FN] had said. At the time he had been irritated, but now that he had lain eyes on her, he found himself content to wait. He would wait as long as it took. This girl needed protecting, because she was being swept up in events beyond her control, with her sister daring to stand against the one who had made the Veil.

He rolled onto his side to get more comfortable. The last thing he saw before his eyelids slid shut was the way the little thread tied to his finger seemed to strain toward the one tied to hers.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this and want to hang out or get a heads up when this is going to update, you can follow me on twitter: [@amandaterasu](https://www.twitter.com/amandaterasu) or you can join my [Discord!](https://discord.gg/eXUfUXG)


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